


A sparrow sang in Berkeley square

by Samara Lilly (Amber_Rose)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Armageddon, Bible references, Biblical Plagues, Childbirth, Death in Childbirth, Eventual Happy Ending, I'm not that cruel, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Crowley (Good Omens), SO SORRY, Sort Of, Temporary Character Death, Vaginal Sex, also non permanent, death of a child, more angst than fluff and smut, non permanent, will add more tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 53,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Rose/pseuds/Samara%20Lilly
Summary: Armageddon is avoided. Aziraphale and Crowley are in a happy relationship. But then Crowley finds himself pregnant, and some very strange things happen. Things that hint to something: The end of the world is near. Again. And Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves in the middle of the most challenging situation of their live.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 65
Kudos: 116





	1. The spark

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a crossover with the movie "The seventh sign". If you know the movie, then you know that death is part of it! But everything will end well, I promise. 
> 
> I would love to read your comments and I am grateful for every kudo!!!

The spark

The bedroom is only dimly lit, but neither angel nor demon are in need of more light. They are both basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Two years have passed since the avoided armageddon, and only very shortly after their celebratory dinner at the Ritz both the demon Crowley and the angel Aziraphale had given up pretending. And that meant not only pretending they were doing their best in their jobs (which was pointless now, anyway, since they were on their own side now and neither of them had to report back to their head offices anymore). It also meant that they finally began to show the affection they had always felt for one another. Their first kiss had of course been in the bookshop. From then on things had very quickly developed. Their friendship would always be the foundation of their relation to another. But now there was so much more! The kissing very quickly turned to touching, turned to hours of lovemaking, to sincere love declarations and finally to Crowley moving in with the angel and them both referring to each other as husbands. 

And so now here they are in their now shared bedroom with the big four poster bed, Crowley sprawled over Aziraphale’s warm, soft body - always still the serpent, always still craving warmth and comfort. He has chosen a different effort for today and feels well and thoroughly fucked and smiles dreamily. Aziraphale is an excellent lover as it had turned out. He is open for everything - and far more experienced than Crowley had ever assumed he would be. Aziraphale is a hedonist through and through. He has always enjoyed the pleasures of a life on earth. And sex had been a part of it from very early on. He has had his share of men and women over the millennia. All this experience is now brought to good use, and Crowley was surprised that this seemingly innocent angel has tricks up his sleeve Crowley had never even thought possible. His magic tricks might not be the best. But he makes up for this in the bedroom. 

But the post coital bliss Crowley is still floating on is suddenly interrupted. His eyes fly open, his nostrils widen as if he is trying to smell something. A shudder runs down his spine and lets goosebumps crawl all over his body. Aziraphale doesn’t notice until Crowley lifts his head and rasps: “Something’s changed.“  
Now Aziraphale looks down and into Crowley’s face, frowning. “Pardon?”  
“Don’t you sense anything… unusual?”  
Aziraphale looks around, concentration on his face, but then shakes his head. “What do you mean? I can’t sense anything.”  
Meanwhile Crowley feels the hairs on his nape stand. “Do you remember the moment when the hellhound found its master? I knew when it happened. This feels similar…”  
“But… Adam is alright, isn’t he? Do you think we should check on him?”  
“No…” Crowley slowly shakes his head. “No, I don’t think it has anything to do with Adam. But… You do remember what I told you about our respective sides? That I was expecting something to happen. Maybe it just did.”

Now there is concern showing on Aziraphale’s face. Crowley glides from Aziraphale’s body and sits up. He moves his head this way and that way, but the strange sensation only seems to intensify with every heartbeat. His whole body starts to tingle. A hint of panic begins to creep up in the back of his head. What’s going on? Why does he feel like this? 

“Crowley - you are beginning to scare me. Talk to me! What do you feel?”  
“I feel… I don’t know! I feel strange.”   
“Strange? Any demonic influence? Some danger?” Aziraphale sits up straight now, too. He is alarmed and still tries to make sense of Crowley’s words.  
Crowley shakes his head. He doesn’t feel threatened, not at all. He feels warm instead, a warmth that runs through his whole body, but with every passing second seems to follow a direction, to the core of his body. Crowley gasps, when he feels this warmth reach his lower abdomen and a sensation he will forever be unable to explain. He looks down his body, trying to process what he feels. He puts both his hands on his belly and gasps again. He can feel it. He can feel something, a certain presence. There is a knowledge of something that should be impossible. 

“Darling, what is it? Are you in pain? You look as if you have seen a ghost.”  
Crowley still stares down at his hands covering his belly.   
“Give me your hand,” Crowley begs, his voice shaking. Aziraphale hesitates for a second, then gives Crowley his hand. The demon puts it onto the smooth skin of his lower abdomen.   
“I think… I think I have just conceived,” says Crowley, his voice barely more than a whisper.   
Aziraphale looks at Crowley’s face, then down to where he holds his hand to his belly.   
“Don’t you feel it? This spark?”  
“What spark?” Aziraphale’s voice sounds unusually high, but he concentrates now on his lover and then his eyes widen.   
“Oh my god…”   
Their eyes meet. They are both shocked and can’t believe what they both clearly feel - the spark of a new life beneath their hands, nested deep inside Crowley’s body. 

“But how is that even possible?” asks the angel and Crowley scoffs.   
“I am presenting female today, Aziraphale. I think we both know how that part of human biology works.”  
“But we are not human! You’re a demon! I never thought demons could conceive!”  
“Me neither! I didn’t ask for this to happen!”   
“And what now?”  
“What do you mean: what now? I am pregnant! That’s a fact, and we can’t change anything about that!”   
Aziraphale hesitates, then pulls his hand away from Crowley’s belly. And before he can stop himself, he says quietly: “In fact we could.”

Crowley’s eyes widen in shock. “What? You want to end this? Are you serious!?”  
Crowley has never thought he would feel like this. But as new as this is to him and as shocked as he is: he is already fiercely protective of this tiny little spark of life in his body.   
“Well, it’s just something we should talk about, don’t you think?”  
“We absolutely shouldn’t! If something like this can happen… I hate to remind you about the Great Plan and ineffability. But does it even occur to you that this might be part of it?”

Aziraphale stares at him. Where do these words come from? Crowley has never been a fan of the Great Plan.   
“How do you mean: this might be part of the Great Plan? How would we know that?”  
“We don’t. But… this is special, Aziraphale. Look, I know, I… I am a demon. But when did you ever see me do something bad to a child?”

Aziraphale doesn’t have to think about this: never. Crowley may have begged him to kill Adam Young, but only because he longed to save the whole world. Crowley has taken care of many children in his time on earth. There are some occasions Aziraphale had witnessed Crowley with children, and he is pretty sure there must have been many more. He has seen Crowley play with some children in the streets of Egypt. He has watched how some girls in Mesopotamia braided Crowley’s long hair. He has seen Crowley with children who were working in the coal mines in England, secretly giving them apples, bread and bacon to make it through their long shifts underground. And there are more occasions Aziraphale knows of. So - no, Crowley would never harm a child. Least of all his own… 

Aziraphale sighs. “You have never done anything bad. You just tried to bring me to kill the antichrist,” he reminds him.   
“That was nothing personal and you know that.” Crowley grimaces. He has hated to ask Aziraphale to do something about this whole antichrist business. Thankfully neither of them were competent enough, and all has ended well. And Crowley is after all very grateful they didn’t had to kill neither Warlock Dowling nor Adam Young. This, though, is something entirely different. He is pregnant. Pregnant with Aziraphale’s baby. And he would never be able to terminate such a wonder that is just happening to him. 

Lost in his own thoughts, he isn’t aware that Aziraphale tries to get his attention. Only when the angel puts a hand on Crowley’s shoulder and gently squeezes, Crowley is torn out of his train of thought.   
“Wot?” he asks, looking at Aziraphale and looking… different. Aziraphale isn’t sure what it is, but there is something he has never seen before in his life long companion.   
“I asked you what you want to do now.”  
“Do? What do you think I would want to do? I am pregnant, angel! There is nothing I can do about that! Nothing I want to do about that!”  
“But a baby… Crowley, I have no idea how to take care of a baby!”   
“So what you’re saying here is you don’t want this?” 

The hurt look on Crowley’s face is making Aziraphale cringe and he hurries to say: “No. No, not what I said. Not what I mean.”  
“You sound like you want me to get rid of our child!” Crowley retreats from him, then gets up and snaps his fingers to get dressed. He isn’t even aware, that his other hand covers his lower belly in a protective gesture.   
“Darling, please don’t say that. Because it’s not true. It’s just… such a massive surprise!”  
“You are aware, that I am just as surprised as you are, right? Aziraphale - this must mean something. A demon and an angel shouldn’t be able to have a child together. I can’t believe this is just a coincidence.”   
“But what does it mean? Do you think this is part of God’s plan? Really? You never sounded like you liked Her plan.”  
“I have no clue what Her plan really is! We may be on our own side, now. But we are still part of Her world. And I don’t think She would let something like this happen without a reason.”

Aziraphale sighs. “So we just go along with it. You will have to give birth to a baby we have no clue of what it might turn out to be. You will go through nine months of inconvenience until you give birth, enduring nearly unbearable pain and then what? I know you love children. But I never imagined us having a child! If I am fit to raise one! I am still very stuck in my Victorian era, still using a phone with a dial plate, for fuck’s sake!”  
“What has that got to do with it?”, replies Crowley with wide eyes. Aziraphale seems to be on the brink of a panic attack, and Crowley has no clue why.   
“Everything! Crowley, I… I am scared! I know you’re a natural when it comes to kids. I know you love them. If anybody should have one, it should definitely be you.”  
“Me? No, angel, we are going to have a child! I am not doing this all on my own!” Crowley can’t believe what he has just heard. Aziraphale can’t seriously mean to let him do this all alone?

Aziraphale groans and rubs his face with both hands. He certainly doesn’t want to leave Crowley. Of course not. But this is a situation he is completely overwhelmed with. It frightens him. So many things can go wrong! Not only is giving birth an event that can be dangerous. They have both lived long enough to have witnessed countless lives being destroyed because something has gone wrong and mother or child or both have died. But even much earlier during a pregnancy so many things can happen! A pregnancy can go smoothly, but can also be a more than a bumpy ride. And once the baby is born there are so many more possibilities. Endless scenarios enfold in front of Aziraphale, and he desperately tries to shove them all away. Because he is only too aware how his silence must affect Crowley. 

With a sigh Aziraphale looks at Crowley and feels a stab of pain in his chest. Crowley looks terribly hurt and confused. And all of a sudden Aziraphale feels selfish. Selfish, egoistic and cruel. While he leaves the bed he snaps his fingers to dress himself and then approaches his mate.   
“Oh Crowley, I am sorry. I don’t want to leave you, and I certainly don’t want you to… not have the baby.” He can’t bring himself to say “kill”, it would be much to cruel to say it out loud. “It’s just… this is such a surprise! I guess I’ll have to get used to the thought. I only need some time to comprehend. Can you give me some time, my dearest?”

Crowley looks at him, his face showing his conflicting feelings. He is scared, too. Of course he is. Having a child… that will change everything. And how will heaven and hell react when they find out? He bites his lip, swallows, then nods.   
“Everything, angel. As long as you stay with me…”  
Aziraphale takes the few steps towards him and pulls him into his arms. “Always. I promise. Always.”   
Crowley loses a lot of the tension that had gripped him. He lets himself sink into the angel’s embrace and immediately begins to feel a little better.   
They stay like this for a moment, until Aziraphale presses a kiss onto Crowley’s cheek. “I need a cup of tea. Do you want one, too?”  
Crowley nods, not able to say anything.   
“Alright. I love you. Be right back.” He lets go and leaves for the kitchen. 

Crowley stands in the bedroom for a moment, unsure what to do next. He rolls his shoulders and lets his head fall back into his neck, looks up at the ceiling. His life is about to change drastically. And suddenly he feels a bout of nausea and runs to the bathroom. He bends over the sink and retches, but of course brings nothing up. Gasping for breath his hands clutch the edge of the sink until he feels the nausea fade. How can he feel like this when he is already full of wonder and love for his child? He stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He is pregnant… And there are still so many questions, so many uncertainties… Why has this happened? This shouldn’t have happened. Never ever. His hands find their way to his belly again. There is a baby in there… A baby he made with Aziraphale. A baby with supernatural parents… What will this baby be? Will it be part angel, part demon? How will all this turn out? What will happen next? Will he even be able to last a pregnancy? Will he be able to give birth to a child? And then what? Heaven and hell might have been quiet, but what if this is all part of a plan? What if someone shows up to take the baby away from them? This is surely something Crowley will never let happen. This child is his, and nobody is going to take it from him or harm it in any way possible. He would die before he would let something like this happen, that’s for sure. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale is back, surely with the promised tea. Crowley pulls a face. He would prefer something much stronger now. But he can’t be sure it won’t harm the baby. So he will have to settle for tea for the next nine months. Hm… a real challenge. But one he is more than willing to take.


	2. Adjusting

The initial shock very quickly dissolves into anticipation and a sudden joy about the fact that - yes, they are going to be parents! Crowley has never thought it possible to have own children. Demons don’t have children. Angels neither, for that matter. And neither he nor Aziraphale have the slightest clue how this pregnancy will turn out to be. Will it last nine months like a human pregnancy? Or will it be shorter or longer? Will Crowley experience the same things a human woman will? 

As it turns out, this supernatural pregnancy comes with a handful of symptoms Crowley has witnessed thousands of times in humans. Under normal circumstances he is not a very good eater. He does it more or less regularly, sometimes just to please his husband and to try if a particular food really is that delicious (it mostly is, Crowley has to admit to himself, and he promises himself to eat more regularly just for the fun of it). The fact neither angel nor demon have to use the bathroom to get rid of the end products of their meals is hugely convenient. They just tend to absorb their food.  
So when Crowley begins to develop certain strange cravings, they have no other effect. And strange cravings they are, indeed. Aziraphale doesn’t complain and doesn’t get tired to fulfill Crowley’s every wish. May it be kippers for breakfast (and Crowley usually hates fish), pancakes with mustard, fresh strawberries with dark chocolate ice cream, steamed broccoli with garlic or chicken wings with fries - Aziraphale always hurries to bring Crowley what ever he wants. 

It takes Aziraphale a little more time to get used to the thought that he is going to be a father. The responsibility that will come with it still scares him. He hasn’t even owned pets in his time on earth. And a child is something entirely different. But the more he thinks about it and the more he reads (of course he does read everything he can get about babies and children) the less scared he is. Yes, it’s a challenge. But they are in this together. And slowly excitement begins to replace his concerns. 

In the meantime the pregnancy continues like you would expect a pregnancy to develop. Thankfully Crowley doesn’t suffer from any morning sickness. Because of his lean frame he begins to show very early on in the pregnancy. He is only 7 weeks gone, when he complains for the first time that his jeans don’t fit him anymore. Although this was to be expected with the very tight trousers he loves to wear. From that point on you can practically watch his belly grow, and it’s only week 12, when everybody can tell that he is pregnant. 

Curious questions, mostly from customers of the book shop or other shop keepers near Aziraphale’s shop in Soho, are all dismissed with the excuse that he is a transman, and nobody asks any further questions. It was Crowley’s idea, and he is fine with it. What is more concerning is that Crowley seems to be losing his ability to miracle. The first time he notices it is when he is in his Bentley. It’s very early September. They are driving to the countryside, a picnic basket on the backseat. He hasn’t been able to resist the angel when Aziraphale had asked him with puppy eyes if they could make a little day trip since it was possibly the last really warm and sunny day of the season.

As usual Aziraphale holds onto the door handle when Crowley maneuvers the shiny black car through the London traffic. He growls and grumbles and at some point tries to create a gap in the mass of cars blocking the street. He has done so countless times before, no big deal. But he is surprised when nothing happens. He frowns and tries again. This time there is a gap appearing in front of the Bentley, and Crowley steers the car through it. He dismisses this event as an exception. 

But it happens again a few days later. It’s only small things he wants to use a little miracle for - just because it’s convenient. And it happens more and more often. Finally Aziraphale notices that Crowley does more and more on his own instead of using a miracle. So Crowley has no other choice but to talk to Aziraphale about it. 

“Since when?” asks Aziraphale and looks concerned.   
“First time I noticed was on our way to our picnic.”  
“That was weeks ago! Why didn’t you tell me?”  
“I wasn’t sure if I just imagined it. But it happens more and more often. I snap my fingers, but nothing happens.”  
Aziraphale looks genuinely concerned. “Do you have any idea why?”   
Crowley reaches for a plate with biscuits and chooses one covered in chocolate.   
Aziraphale watches him chew and is again surprised. Crowley does not usually have a sweet tooth. But the pregnancy seems to have increased his appetite for sugar. 

“I suppose - sorry…” Crowley swallows his mouthful of biscuit before he continues: “I suppose it’s the baby absorbing the power. That’s the only explanation I can think of.”  
“Hm… I just hope this is not harmful for the baby. Or you.”  
“I don’t think so. Anyway, I can’t change anything about it. I’m pretty sure the baby absorbs my energy anyway because they need it. Would be an explanation why I am so damn tired all the time…”  
Aziraphale tries not to show how concerned he is. Of course he has noticed how quickly Crowley tires at the moment. He was always one to sleep regularly. But now he also takes naps every afternoon - sometimes in the flat, sometimes even in the back room of the bookshop on the sofa. His usual energy seems to drain out of him very quickly. 

“Do you really think that’s all? I wouldn’t want you to be harmed, either.”  
Crowley, trying not to worry Aziraphale too much, shrugs. “I hope so. It’s just irritating that I can’t miracle like I want to. And I have the impression that it gets worse with the miracles. Not sure if I will be able to miracle something at all at the end of the pregnancy…”  
He doesn’t want to admit that he is in fact concerned about this, too. But there is nothing he can do, can he? 

It’s not that Crowley isn’t able or willing to make himself a cup of coffee or cook something. He usually enjoys cooking, even though he doesn’t do it regularly. He has never felt the need to. He is more tempted at the moment because he often feels a little peckish. So spending time in the kitchen is no inconvenience. But before it was just something he did for fun and not because he has to because he can’t miracle something up. And picking egg shells out of his scrambled eggs by hand rather than removing them with a quick miracle is just annoying. 

Dressing is annoying, too. He knows it’s impossible, but he could swear he could watch his baby bump grow every day. Not that he does mind going shopping for clothes. He has always loved fashion. He hasn’t even tried to justify himself by saying it was part of his job to blend in with the humans. But shopping maternity clothes is different. His preference for dark clothes doesn’t make things any easier. At home in their flat he has taken to wear mostly track bottoms and leggings and spacious shirts and jumpers. These he can buy in every men’s department with a sports section. But as he still goes out with Aziraphale for dinners or walks, he needs some clothes to meet his high standards. He has to make certain concessions. And so in the end he takes to wearing basic tight black maternity shirts and maternity jeans when ever he leaves the house, sometimes combined with cardigans or a dark dress shirt he wears unbuttoned. 

Apart from these little nuisances Crowley is fine. He enjoys being pregnant and caresses his baby bump at every opportunity. But so does Aziraphale when ever they are alone and resting. Crowley likes to lay down, his head in Aziraphale’s lap. The angel usually rests his book on a pillow next to him to be able to turn the pages with only one hand while the other is on Crowley’s round belly. Every time he feels movement beneath his palm Aziraphale has this warm feeling inside him. That’s his child, and he still can’t believe what a wonder is happening to them. 

Little by little they begin to prepare everything for the baby. Aziraphale has used a not so minor miracle to create a nursery, but Crowley had insisted they went shopping together for everything the baby will need. It is a joy to watch the demon shop for baby clothes, for furniture, toys and decoration for the nursery. He even choses a wallpaper and helps Aziraphale decorate the room. Never in his existence on earth has Aziraphale ever expected to do something like this - and how much he would enjoy it. Watching Crowley adapt to his new role as a parent fills Aziraphale with wonder and helps him to do the same. Now he is as devoted to his unborn child as he is to his husband. 

And full of trust that everything is fine. Crowley has so far vehemently refused to see a doctor, insisting that nothing good would result out of a consultation with a doctor. Briefly he has considered seeing a midwife. But since they both don’t now how the baby will look like, he dismisses the thought after some reflecting. At the beginning Aziraphale isn’t sure if he should insist Crowley should see some professional. But he doesn’t want to pressure the demon into anything or upset him, and so he never mentions it. And Crowley is so confident and so happy… 

Many afternoons Aziraphale finds him napping somewhere, always a hand on his belly. And more than once he catches the demon softly talking to his unborn child. When ever Aziraphale walks in on him when he talks to his baby, he blushes furiously and immediately falls silent. Aziraphale finds it terribly endearing. And to reassure him that this is nothing to be embarrassed about, he begins to talk to their baby, too. He loves to murmur promises to their child while he has his hand on Crowley’s rounding belly and tries to feel something inside. And every time he does, his heart beats a little faster. That’s his child. His baby. Moving and kicking beneath his hand. A little being. A wonder. He can’t wait to meet his child for the first time. 

This is also the point where they talk about how Crowley wants to give birth. It turns out Crowley has given it a lot of thought, and they talk about it at length. Crowley insists he wants a home birth, even brings up the idea of a water birth. Aziraphale knows how much Crowley loves long baths, so this shouldn’t surprise him. What’s new for him is the fact that you can buy inflatable birthing pools. This idea seems a little strange, but if this is what Crowley wants, he will give it a try. 

As the weeks pass and the weather changes, Crowley finds another side effect of being pregnant a very nice one: he is not as cold as he normally is during autumn and winter. That has always been part of he second nature as a snake: he hates the cold and wraps himself in as many warm layers as possible. But not this year. He still likes to cuddle with Aziraphale and enjoys the angel’s warmth, just only up to a certain point. Aziraphale lets him do as he pleases and doesn’t mind to be used a living warm water bottle only to be shoved away just a few minutes later.


	3. The first signs

“Have you read this? New outbursts of the plague in India and China. Thank god we have antibiotics today.” Aziraphale lowers the top half of his morning paper and looks at Crowley. The demon is sitting opposite him at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee and rubbing over his belly where the baby is kicking inside him. He is already seven months pregnant, and slowly the first inconveniences begin to bother him. Moving is exhausting and sometimes painful. His hips feel like they could pop out of their sockets every moment, and he is constantly out of breath. 

“They can be glad they have antibiotics. If this were a virus it would be much more complicated with many more people dying.”  
“Every single soul dying is one too much.”  
“‘Course, we can agree on that. But there is nothing we can do about it. The doctors will sort it out.”  
“Yes…” Aziraphale sighs. He takes off his reading glasses and folds his morning paper to put it away. 

“How are you feeling? You look tired.”  
“I _am_ tired. Constantly. It turns out growing another being in your body is tiring.” Crowley sighs and then groans.   
“Baby is kicking a lot this morning.”  
Aziraphale smiles at him. “We should take it as a good sign. Meaning the baby is healthy, right?”  
“Yeah, but it feels like I am punched nonstop from the inside. Some spots hurt more than others. And when the baby hits the same spot again and again…”   
“You poor thing. I wish I could do something about it.”  
“I think I will survive it. But still it’s annoying and painful.”

Aziraphale gets up now and comes over to Crowley. The demon looks up. There are dark circles under his eyes. He does in fact look worn out. Aziraphale bends down to kiss him. His hand finds it’s way onto Crowley’s belly. The jumper he is wearing is stretched tight over the baby bump. He will need a bigger jumper soon. Crowley pushes his hand a little further to the side.   
“There…” he murmurs agains Aziraphale’s lips, before they kiss again.   
Aziraphale can feel the kicking beneath his palm. He has felt it countless times already, but every time it’s still something special for him. This connection to his child always makes his heart swell with love and affection. Finally Aziraphale straightens and takes his hand from Crowley’s belly. 

“I have nothing but admiration and respect for what you have to endure at the moment.” He caresses Crowley’s cheek and tousles Crowley’s hair.   
“Don’t, angel… I feel awful enough as it is, no need to make me look like a clown…” he complains, but can’t help but smile.   
“You look amazing, my dear. Do you want more coffee?”  
“No, I think I’ll take another nap.” With a deep groan he heaves himself up from his chair. He can’t believe he has two more months to go. How is going to do this? He can’t see his feet anymore, and he feels like his spine is bending in ways even his spine is not supposed to bend. Aziraphale looks after him, as he slowly makes his way out of the kitchen and to the bedroom. He wishes he could make this easier for Crowley, but that’s the only thing he can’t do for him. 

With a sigh he begins to clear the breakfast table. When he puts the morning paper away his gaze falls onto the headline of the paper. The plague has never been truly extinct. There have always been small outbursts. Aziraphale frowns. Hasn’t he read about outbursts of leprosy in countries where the disease hasn’t appeared for centuries? Strange… 

*

“You really want to do that? I understand why you decorate your shop for the season. But a Christmas tree in your flat?” Crowley grumbles. He has both hands deep in the pockets of his down jacket, a dark red cashmere scarf pulled up to his nose.   
“I know, it’s silly. But it’s a tradition. Our child will grow up with them, so why not try it?”  
“We could try every religion on this planet, angel,” reminds Crowley. They stop at a red traffic light.   
“Would you rather we celebrate Hanukkah? Or the Sugar Festival? Or any other major religious holiday?”  
“Neither if you ask me…”  
“Oh Crowley, don’t be like that.” Aziraphale smiles at him, and Crowley sighs. When has he ever been able to deny Aziraphale anything?   
“How am I? I just don’t see any sense in doing this.”  
“Must everything make sense, darling? It’s Christmas!”   
“If you start singing a Christmas carol, I swear I’m gonna leave and sleep for the rest the pregnancy.”

Aziraphale chuckles. The traffic light turns to green, and they cross the street. He links arms with Crowley. Of course Crowley has a point. They don’t need to celebrate any of this. But Aziraphale just likes Christmas. The decorations and lights, the music, the Christmas markets, the food… And since they are going to be parents, their child will grow up with it. So why not try it out? They are currently on their way to look for a Christmas tree. Aziraphale has lured Crowley into it with the promise to visit the Ritz afterwards. And since Crowley can never resist to watch his angel eat, it hadn’t been that difficult to convince him to accompany him. 

Just like Crowley has feared this whole ordeal is terribly boring. The only thing that makes it bearable is the look of pure joy on Aziraphale’s face. That’s always something Crowley will do everything for. In the end they don’t buy a Christmas tree, yet. On their way to the Ritz Aziraphale can’t resist to pull Crowley into Fortnum & Mason “Just to take a look at the Christmas section”. Crowley groans and hopes they won’t be stuck here for more than an hour. 

His estimation turns out to be correct. They leave Fortnum and Mason with two bags filled with an assortment of Christmas decorations for the tree that is yet to buy, a pound of Aziraphale’s favorite tea and a box of some decadent chocolates. Crowley is relieved when they finally arrive at their table at the Ritz. His back hurts and he is glad Aziraphale helps him out of his down jacket. With a deep sigh he sinks onto his chair.   
“Are you alright, darling?” Aziraphale asks concerned.   
“Yes, fine.”  
Aziraphale lifts a hand for a waiter. “Some water for my husband, please.”  
“Aw, don’t fuss about me, angel.”  
“I apologize, my dear. I shouldn’t have dragged you through half of London.” Aziraphale sits down next to him. The bustling of the tea time at the Ritz is familiar and much loved by both of them. But right now Crowley is just tired and aching. And hungry. Thank someone the traditional afternoon tea at the Ritz is amazing and revives some of his energy. But only some. When they are back in their flat above the book shop Crowley falls asleep on the sofa. Aziraphale gently covers him with a blanket. His heart is full of love for his beautiful, pregnant and tired demon. 

With Christmas just around the corner there are more customers in the book shop than usual - which annoys Aziraphale. He isn’t particularly fond of selling his precious books, but he has to from time to time to keep up appearances. But it leaves his shop in a state he can barely tolerate. Christmas eve is the last day Aziraphale will be open for the rest of the year, and he is glad about that. After closing the shop they settle in for some quiet time alone, decorate the Christmas tree (yes, they really have bought one) and have a nice dinner together. Crowley falls asleep in Aziraphale’s lap while the angel is watching a soppy Christmas movie on the telly. 

The next morning after breakfast Aziraphale goes down into his shop to clean up the disarray left from the Christmas season. Crowley doesn’t mind and switches on the telly in search for something watchable. And is stuck with a newsflash on BBC. He sits up straight and watches a strange scenario unfold in front of him.

Crowley stares at the screen. This is odd. And alarmingly familiar. He remembers similar events, but that had been back then in old Egypt. Moses and pharaoh Ramses hat played their roles in them, and Crowley remembers them, shuddering. Instinctively he puts both his hands on his gravid belly. Oh, the memories still haunt him sometimes in his sleep - the crying and screaming parents, trying to protect their sons from the blades of pharaoh’s army. And failing… It had been one of the most horrible nights in his existence. But before this night there had been other occurrences. One of them was the water of the Nile turn into blood. Crowley now witnesses an all too familiar sight. But this is the Thames. The old and well known, calm river Thames, its usually always a little murky looking waters now a bright red colour, the crimson waves lapping at the bodies of the many boats on the river and the stones of the water front. 

Crowley swallows hard. What is going on? He turns the volume up and listens. 

“Witnesses from all along the shores of the river Thames are currently reporting on the same matter: the river seems to have turned to blood. We have spoken to Prof. Andrew Noble from London University and Prof. Dr. Susan Windamere from UCLA via phone. These are recordings from earlier this morning.”   
Crowley listens to the interview with this professors - who are absolutely clueless about what is going on. One is a geologist, the other a biologist. Both try to find an explanation, but of course can’t provide one. While they are talking, footage from all parts of the river Thames is shown.   
The same situation everywhere - from the source up to where the river reaches the North Sea. A shiver runs down Crowley’s spine, and he is tense with a horrible feeling. When he has heard enough he heaves himself out of his armchair and goes as fast as he can downstairs into the bookshop. 

“Angel?”  
Aziraphale has his arm full of books when he turns towards him. “Are you alright? You look stressed. Is the baby okay?” He immediately drops his books onto a little free space on a side table.   
“I just watched the news. Did you already see it? The Thames is turning red. The whole fucking river looks like a stream of blood!”   
Aziraphale frowns. “What? But that’s impossible.”  
“It’s all over the news. Come.” Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand and pulls him with him up the stairs and into the flat where the tv is still showing the news. 

Aziraphale watches, his eyes going wide, the angel standing perfectly still like a marble statue. Crowley is chewing on his lower lip. The more he watches the more his heart pounds in his chest.   
“Angel?” he asks at some point and that pulls Aziraphale out of his shocked state.   
“I…” Aziraphale clears his throat, then goes to fetch the remote and turns off the telly.   
“I’m sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. Don’t worry.”  
Crowley squints at him. “Don’t worry? A reasonable explanation? Didn’t you just watch?”  
“Really, darling, I don’t want you to stress yourself. This is just a very recent thing. The scientists are already working on it.”   
“Yeah, but I have the nagging feeling they won’t find an explanation for this! How can you be so calm?” Crowley feels their baby inside him move as if they sense his worry. He feels a little foot kicking at his ribs and runs a hand over the dome of his belly. 

“Well, one of us has to be, right? You’re much too agitated. Please sit down. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”  
“I don’t want tea!” Crowley takes a step back and looks at Aziraphale in confusion.   
“I want to know what’s going on! This looks very familiar, does it not? You were there, Aziraphale! You and me, we were both witnesses to what happened in Egypt!”  
“This is not Egypt, my dear, it’s the United Kingdom,” Aziraphale answers a little snappy and walks towards the kitchen. Crowley stares after him and then follows him. He stops in the kitchen door and watches the angel prepare tea. He tries to appear calm. But Crowley can see it in the way he holds himself and in the way he moves: he’s not as calm as he wants to appear. 

“You’re worried, too,” Crowley states. Another kick to his ribs makes him grind his teeth.   
“Just like I said: the scientists will find out what’s going on.”  
“The scientists know shit! Do you know anything about this, Aziraphale?”   
“No, of course not!” Aziraphale looks at him now. His face is serious. “Why do you think I would know something about this? I haven’t had any contact with upstairs since Tadfield. Besides, why would they do something like that?”  
“Like I said back then: maybe it’s the next attempt to have the war your lot and mine still want?”  
“They aren’t our lot anymore. Our side, remember?” Aziraphale pours hot water into the teapot.   
“I told you, they won’t just give up! Oh damn…” Crowley runs his hands through his thick red hair. How can Aziraphale be so cool about this?

“Crowley, darling, you’re really stressing yourself too much. Please sit down now.” He comes over to him and pulls him into the kitchen, makes him sit on a chair and presses a kiss onto his lips.   
“Please try to stay calm. This will be resolved in no time. Just give it one or two days, and then we’ll know.”   
Crowley groans. He wants to believe Aziraphale, he really does. It’s just not that easy. Not when you know so much more than humanity… He stares into nothing until Aziraphale places his favourite mug in front of him on the table and pushes a plate with some biscuits next to it.   
“Here. You liked them the last time I bought them.”   
“That doesn’t solve anything, and you know that,” says Crowley, but takes a biscuit anyway and then reaches for the tea.   
“Of course I know that. But please let’s just wait and see what happens. Don’t make me worry about you, my dear.”   
With a sighs Crowleys pops the biscuit into his mouth. He doesn’t want Aziraphale to worry about him. But he also doesn’t want him to be too naive. Aziraphale forces a smile onto his face.   
“Can you do that for me, Crowley?”   
“‘Course… Ya. No problem…” Crowley murmurs. He really hopes this whole thing will sort itself out.

In the end there are lot of theories by different scientists, and some seem to be kind of reasonable, but none of them can really convince Crowley that the bloody river Thames was just a strange coincidence. The phenomenon lasts for only two days, then it’s like it has never happened. The news turn to other events, and after a few more days Crowley begins to believe that maybe he has in fact overreacted.


	4. The stranger

“Good morning. How can I help you?”   
Aziraphale has opened his book shop for the first time in the new year and approaches the man who has just entered the shop and is smiling at him, extending a hand. Aziraphale automatically takes it and is mesmerized by the way the man looks at him. There is a strange intensity in his gaze. His grey-blue eyes look like a stormy ocean.   
“Hello. My name is David Bannon. I am renting a shop around the corner where Lunar Vintage used to be.”  
“Oh!” Aziraphale knows the shop and its owner, Lola. “I haven’t seen Lola for a while. Is she alright?”  
“Yes, she’s fine. But she moved to York. I’m going to open a bookshop, too. I was a little concerned, when I saw your shop and just wanted to introduce myself and tell you that you don’t have to worry. I specialize in art books but also sell art prints and original drawings. There are certainly vintage books among what I’m selling, but I am not a second hand bookshop like you."  
Aziraphale is moved by the thoughtfulness of this man. He can’t know that Aziraphale doesn’t need to sell his books. And in fact often doesn’t even want to. So there won’t be any competition between them. And Aziraphale is delighted and hopeful to have someone near who seems to share his love for books. 

“I am sure we’ll get along very fine, David. Would you like a cup of tea?”  
David smiles. “I love a good cup of tea. Thank you, Mr. Fell.”  
“Please, call me Ezra. This way, David. Let me just close the shop so we can talk uninterrupted. Which kind of tea would you like?”  
“I’m not picky. What ever you like best.”  
“Take a seat. I’ll be right back!” 

An hour later Aziraphale and David are still chatting, seated in the back of the shop, when Aziraphale hears Crowley’s footsteps and then the back door to the shop opening.  
“Angel?”  
“Here, my dear!” Aziraphale gets up. “Excuse me for a second, David.”   
Crowley rounds the corner and stops. He looks still disheveled and tired, one hand on his baby bump. He is eight months pregnant now, and moving around is starting to put a strain on him. He runs a hand through his hair, knowing fully well how he looks at the moment.   
“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt.” He attempts to retreat back into the flat, but Aziraphale is quicker. He takes Crowley’s hand.   
“I want you to meet someone. Did you sleep well?”  
Crowley grumbles something. He doesn’t feel like he wants to meet this stranger sitting on his own usual spot on the sofa. But Aziraphale doesn’t seem to notice. He walks back to David, pulling Crowley with him. 

“This is David. He’s going to open up a bookshop around the corner. You know, where Lola had her shop. David, this is my husband. Anthony.”  
David doesn’t seem surprised at the sight of an obviously pregnant man when he gets up to offer Crowley his hand.   
“Nice to meet you, Anthony.” He looks at his baby bump and smiles. “Congratulations.”  
“Th-thank you…?” Crowley replies, surprised by the genuine smile and honest congratulation.   
“New life is always something to be happy about, don’t you agree?” asks David, voice soft. Crowley gives him a quick once over. Blue-grey eyes that seem to look right into him, dark blond hair, jeans and a plain white dress shirt, a grey cardigan and boring brown leather shoes. Nothing remarkable, but there is something about this man. Something intense. 

“I… yes, you’re right. Of course. Erm… Sorry, but do I know you?”   
Aziraphale looks back and forth between them. He has the strange feeling that he and Crowley sense it both. He seems vaguely familiar. But maybe that’s just because he seems to be so ordinary at the same time.   
David chuckles. “I don’t think so. I haven’t been around for a very long time. - When is your baby to be born?”  
“February 29th. It’s a leap year. But who knows…” Instinctively Crowley runs a hand over his baby bump. When he had used the online calculator he had started laughing when the due date was shown. Of course even the birthday of their child must be something extraordinary…   
“Makes it even more special. You must be very happy.”  
Crowley is surprised this stranger is so kind and interested. He nods. “Well, it wasn’t planned. Came as a big surprise. But we’re happy.”

“Yes. We would never want to change anything about this.” Aziraphale steps closer now, puts an arm around Crowley’s waist and looks at him adoringly. “And you are so right. New life is always something to be happy about. We have already prepared everything for the little one.”  
“I wish you nothing but the best. Well, I should be on my way now. I’ll see you soon, Ezra. Thank you for the tea and the pleasant conversation.”  
“It was my pleasure. You can stop by whenever you like. I enjoyed talking to you.”  
“Me, too. I’ll see you both. Bye.”   
With that David leaves. Crowley waits until he has left the shop before he turns towards Aziraphale. 

“That was strange,” Crowley states.   
“A little. But he was very nice. Very polite. We talked for an hour before you came downstairs.”  
“Maybe too nice. Don’t like the too nice ones. Always something wrong with them,” mumbles Crowley.   
“Oh don’t be like that. I’m sure he is a good man. Are you hungry? Do you want to go out for dinner?” Aziraphale reaches up and pushes a strand of hair out of Crowley’s forehead. Crowley shrugs. He would die for a good glass of wine, but is still reluctant to do so. Better to take no risks. He is not very hungry, but they haven’t eaten in a restaurant for a fortnight. And Crowley knows how much Aziraphale loves to have a nice dinner in a nice place. 

So Crowley asks: “Any place you would fancy, angel?” and Aziraphale immediately smiles.   
“What would you say to some Portuguese? I haven’t had Cozido à portuguesa for a long time.”   
“Yeah. Last time in ran into you in Portugal was in 1807 in Lisbon. Have you been there since?”  
“Oh no. But I was tempted to flit over because the sea food was always so delicious…” There is already this dreamy expression on Aziraphale’s face that always appears when he thinks about an especially rememberable meal… 

Crowley smiles. Never can he deny his husband a nice dinner. “Alright, that’s settled then. I’m gonna take a look into my closet if there is anything in there I can wear tonight that doesn’t make me look like I was ready to burst any time.”  
“Nonsense. You look stunning. Especially like this.” Aziraphale gently runs his hands over the baby bump, waiting for a movement of their child.   
“They have been well behaved all day. I am fairly sure the night will be short for me. Wouldn’t be the first time for them to keep me awake,” sighs Crowley, but his hands join the ones of Aziraphale. 

Since Crowley has never seen a doctor during the whole pregnancy and hasn’t had any exams, least of all an ultrasound, they both have no clue if they are expecting a boy or a girl - or anything in between. So they have settled for undefined pronouns for their little one. They are both impatient already.   
After a sweet kiss Crowley backs away with a sigh. “I’m gonna get dressed. Don’t put your hopes up too high…”  
“I am sure you will be beautiful. You always are.”  
“Flatterer.”  
Aziraphale smiles and kisses him back. “My pleasure.” 

They have a really nice dinner, Aziraphale with some extremely good red wine. Crowley steals a sip or two, he just can’t resist. When they are home again, Aziraphale still raves about the Leite creme, the Portuguese version of the French Créme brulée. After they have put their jackets and scarves away, Crowley pulls Aziraphale into a kiss.   
“Angel, can you just stop talking about desserts now?”   
“Sorry. Got carried away.”   
Crowley takes off his glasses and pulls him close again, although he has to stand a little sideways because of the size of his gravid belly.   
“I would like you to get carried away by a very different activity,” he purrs and nuzzles the soft spot beneath Aziraphale’s ear. He inhales his well known beloved scent and feels a new surge of arousal spike. Today was one of the days where watching Aziraphale eat a particularly good meal has turned him on, and he really wants to take this to the bedroom. 

“Oh… but… isn’t this too exhausting for you?”   
“Making love? Exhausting in the best of ways, angel. Please, take me to bed…” Crowley’s hand crawls beneath Aziraphale’s waistcoat and makes the angel squirm.   
“Oh you wily old serpent… How am I supposed to resist you?”  
“You aren’t. That’s my point.” Crowley’s tongue tastes the sensitive skin he is nuzzling against.   
“But you have to tell me if anything gets too much.”  
“There can never be too much of you. Come on now.” And with this Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand and leads him to the bedroom. 

Getting undressed without using a miracle is routine for Crowley now, but that doesn’t make it less annoying. He is glad Aziraphale is helping and finally lays him down on their bed. Crowley props himself up with a few pillows and watches Aziraphale undress. Like always it’s mesmerizing to watch him get rid of the many layers he covers himself with since the Victorian era. With every piece of skin he is showing Crowley gets more and more excited. Aziraphale smiles when he is only in his boxers, all the rest of his clothing neatly folded and put away.   
“Like what you see, hm?”  
“Oh, you know I love what I see, angel. Come here and let me get my hands on you.”  
Aziraphale chuckles and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, but doesn’t pull. Crowley groans. “Don’t be such a tease!”

Aziraphale can’t suppress his laughter anymore and quickly gets rid of his last piece of clothing. His cock is already standing hard and proud. Crowley licks his lips. Like always the sight of his husband in this state is doing things to Crowley. Knowing that nobody else but him gets to see this exceptional beauty makes him a little possessive - no matter which gender he has. And certainly no matter if he is pregnant. It just annoys him that he can’t move like he used to. He will let to have Aziraphale do most of the work. 

Aziraphale is already kneeling on the bed and bends over Crowley to plants loving kisses onto the warm skin of his belly.   
“Hope the baby doesn’t mind if I ravish their daddy.”  
“Oh please ravish away, angel.” Crowley writhes on the sheets. Not that he doesn’t enjoy Aziraphale’s lips on his belly, but there is a very different region of his body he wants to feel these lips on right now. And some other parts of Aziraphale’s anatomy. But for now it’s the angel’s fingers he feels: warm and soft and gentle on the soft inner side of his right thigh, moving upwards. Crowley opens his legs to give Aziraphale all the access he needs. Aziraphale smiles and feels his cock pulse when his fingertips reach their goal. Crowley arches when he feels the first careful touch to his hot, wet sex.

He wishes he wasn’t constantly so tired out, because the lust and desire for Aziraphale and his touch are there, but mostly just simmering below the surface. Aziraphale understands when Crowley isn’t up to more heated activities. Kissing and hand jobs are the most they have done since Crowley has entered the third trimester. And he is fine with it as long as he gets to hold Crowley in his arms afterwards and be there for him. But of course the prospect of being more intimate tonight is nice and makes Aziraphale excited. Still he doesn’t want to rush things and wants Crowley to be as ready as possible. 

Aziraphale changes his position. He has to kiss Crowley, it’s impossible not to. Crowley moans into their messy kiss, when Aziraphale’s finger enters him while his thumb draws gentle circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes Crowley mad with lust.   
“Alright, darling?” asks Aziraphale. He knows how sensitive Crowley is due to the pregnancy and has to make sure he is enjoying himself.   
“Yes! Keep going, so good!” hisses Crowley and bucks his hips to get more friction.   
“Do you want to come like this?”  
“Want to come with you inside me. I’m ready, angel, please…”  
“Already? I thought I’d make you come at least once before -”  
“No. Want you now,” whines Crowley and claws at Aziraphale’s forearm.   
“Always so impatient…” sighs Aziraphale with a smile but of course gives in. He longs to be inside Crowley, only the mechanics are a little different from before. 

“On your side, I’ll be behind you,” Aziraphale instructs. Crowley turns with a little groan. He would prefer to see Aziraphale’s face, but knows this position will be much more comfortable for him. Aziraphale arranges Crowley on their bed, supporting his upper leg and his baby bump with some pillows.   
“Are you comfortable, my dear?”  
“Yes, fine. Will you get inside me now?”  
Aziraphale lays down behind his love and peppers his shoulder with butterfly kisses. He loves the freckles on Crowley’s skin and could kiss them for ages.   
“Patience is a virtue.”  
“Sod patience. Please, Aziraphale…” moans Crowley and finally feels the angel’s hard cock. He shivers when Aziraphale moves his hips and slowly fills him, the feeling as marvelous as always. 

When Aziraphale is fully sheathed in Crowley’s perfect warm body he stops for a moment. It feels so good, and he wants to enjoy this feeling. His hand glides over to Crowley’s front, caresses his belly and then moves higher up to his chest. Crowley gasps when Aziraphale’s thumb flicks over his nipple and pushes his hips back to get Aziraphale’s cock even deeper. Aziraphale smiles and presses more kisses onto Crowley’s warm skin. He breathes into Crowley’s ear: “You feel amazing, darling… so good… are you alright?”  
“More than. You can move now.”   
“Like this?” Aziraphale moves his hips, which makes Crowley moan. He builds up to a slow, steady rhythm while his thumb plays with Crowley’s nipple. 

Crowley has his eyes closed and tries to just feel. Aziraphale always tries to make him feel as good as possible. And he really is sensitive at the moment. It’s as if he can feel every vein and ridge of Aziraphale’s cock, as if he can even feel his heartbeat from where they are connected. He is already pretty close and can come from just this. And he wants to. Oh, how he wants to… He smiles when he hears Aziraphale’s breathing getting heavier. But Aziraphale is trying to hold out, to make it good for him. 

“Is that alright? What do you need?” asks Aziraphale, he’s a little breathless.   
“Just this. Keep going, I’m gonna come…”  
Crowley reaches behind himself to grab Aziraphale’s hip. His fingertips dig deep into Aziraphale’s soft flesh. He needs something to anchor himself, feels his orgasm build. The friction of Aziraphale’s cock inside him is glorious. His whole body is tingling. Aziraphale moves faster now, pretty close himself. But if Crowley would want him to, he would go on for as long as he wants or needs.   
“Angel… Angel!”

Aziraphale feels Crowley’s body go rigid, how his muscles grab him tight and pulse around him. He pants and moans out his pleasure. Aziraphale can’t help but smile while he keeps on moving and finally reaches his own climax, basking in the pleasure and love for his husband. When it’s over he just holds Crowley in his arms until his cock softens and slips free. Crowley sighs happily, grabbing Aziraphale’s hand and pulls it up for a kiss.   
“That was just what I needed,” he smiles, then turns around. He loves the way Aziraphale looks when they have made love. He is practically glowing, relaxed and looks foolishly happy. The blush on his pale skin is lovely, and he smiles at him.   
“So I take it you’re satisfied for now,” he smirks. That’s another thing Crowley loves about these moments. The playfulness, the ease he shows in moments like these. Sometimes Crowley wonders if Aziraphale has been the same with his human lovers. He never dared to ask, didn’t want to make himself jealous. Because there was no point in doing so, right? They were all long dead and gone. But Crowley is here, they are together, and nothing will ever change that. 

Crowley scoots a little closer and reaches for Aziraphale. He buries his hands in Aziraphale’s curls to smash their mouths together. Aziraphale makes a surprised sound, but Crowley can feel him smile. They kiss until they are both breathless. Only then Crowley lets go and snuggles close, his face pressed against Aziraphale’s chest. Aziraphale puts his arms around him and pets his back. He just listens to Crowley’s breathing, feels the beating of his heart and just enjoys this feeling. They have waited so long for this intimacy. Aziraphale has never admitted it, but he has longed for his demon for centuries. To finally have this is more than he has ever hoped for. And now on top they are going to be parents. 

“I love you so much, Crowley… I can never express how much you mean to me…”  
“Love you more…”  
Aziraphale chuckles. “Is that so?”  
“Loved you since the first moment on this damned wall around the garden… I had expected you to smite me with your flaming sword. Instead you talked to me and were kind and funny…”  
“Funny? You found me funny?”  
“Course. You gave the humans your sword. You disobeyed Her. On your first week on apple duty. Should have already known what a naughty angel you are.”  
“I’m not naughty,” protests Aziraphale with a grin.   
“No? What do you call this then? You just fucked me nice and proper, and I am pregnant with your baby. That’s not how an angel should behave, right? Consorting with the enemy.”   
Aziraphale can feel Crowley smiling against his chest and knows he is only teasing. They have always been like this. And the angel hopes they will always be. 

“You are not my enemy. You never were. You are my everything. You and our child. I can’t wait to see our little one for the first time…”  
“Yeah, speaking of which…” Crowley takes Aziraphale’s hand and puts it onto his belly near his ribs.   
“Your offspring is trying to break my ribs again. You should have a word with them.”  
“Oh don’t be like that. They have to strengthen their muscles.”  
“But not when they are still inside my womb.”  
Aziraphale smiles and kisses him lovingly before he glides down and presses his lips to Crowley’s belly. 

“You heard your daddy. He wants me to have a word with you, sweetie.”   
Crowley bites his lip when he hears Aziraphale talking to their baby. He shouldn’t laugh now, he really shouldn’t. But it’s funny when Aziraphale behaves like this.   
“We know you are still growing. And you should develop your strength. But you should also let your daddy get the rest he needs. Nurturing you is hard work for him.”  
Crowley is fascinated by Aziraphale’s words and doesn’t dare to say anything.   
“Once we hold you in our arms you can do however you please. But for now I would very much like for you to let your daddy sleep. Can we both agree on that, little one?”   
Aziraphale caresses the spot where he feels the movement of there child with his hand. And strange as it may seem, the baby seems to calm down. Crowley waits until it’s calm again inside his body, then he chuckles. 

“Well done, angel. They have gone to sleep.”  
“And so should you. Sleep, dearest. Let me just hold you.”   
Aziraphale slips behind Crowley again and pulls him close to his chest, one hand on his belly. Crowley sighs - tired and satisfied and content and happy. He has never been this happy before. If only he could be this happy for ever… He slowly sinks into a deep sleep, safe and sound in the arms of his beloved angel.


	5. An old myth

“Oh, I ran into David yesterday on my way from the bakery,” tells Aziraphale a few days later. Crowley only lifts an eyebrow and waits. He has just entered the kitchen, fresh from the shower.   
“We chatted for a few minutes and… erm… I invited him for dinner on Saturday.”  
This information immediately alerts Crowley and makes him groan.   
“You did what?” He stares at Aziraphale and can’t believe what he just heard.   
“Well, he said his oven is not functioning, and I just thought it would be nice to have him around and talk.”  
“An evening of talk about old books. Always my favorite pastime,” snarls Crowley and adds: “And I will be the one to make dinner. That is in fact very nice. Thank you, Aziraphale. I am eight months pregnant and you want me to cook for some random book seller we hardly know?”  
Aziraphale wrings his hands. “I know, I should have talked to you first. But I enjoyed the conversation I had with him, and… He has said he hasn’t been in London for a long time. Maybe he’s lonely.”  
“Yeah, maybe. But that’s not our business.” Crowley sighs. That’s not how he has imagined their Saturday evening to go. Now he has to think up an easy but nice enough recipe and even cook it for David. Hell, he hasn’t even cooked for Anathema and Newton, and they are in fact friends. Even if they seldom see each other, at least they talk on the phone or via Skype from time to time. 

Aziraphale realizes he has made a mistake. The last thing he wants is to stress Crowley. Not in his condition.   
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have done this without asking you first. I’ll go over to his shop and tell him.”   
Crowley runs a hand through his hair, still damp from his shower, and thinks about it. He knows how much Aziraphale enjoys talks with fellow book enthusiasts. That’s one of the things Crowley can’t provide. He is no avid reader, owns only a few books on astronomy because of his past as a star maker. His eyes tire quickly, must be part of his snake nature. Making Aziraphale happy has always been Crowley’s top priority, though. So he sighs and says: “No… it’s fine. I’ll cook. But don’t expect a five course menu.”   
“Of course not. I’ll help. Just tell me what to do, I’ll do it.”  
“You can do the shopping to start with. I’ll make you a list.”  
“Of course, dear.” 

Crowley falls onto his usual chair in the kitchen. He’s hungry, but making breakfast seems too much an effort.   
“Let’s go out for breakfast. I would die for a proper English,” he suggests and looks up at Aziraphale who still looks guilty. But now his face lights up immediately.   
“Oh, what a wonderful idea! We haven’t been to The Ivy City Garden for ages! Would you like to go there?”  
It’s a little far for Crowley’s liking, but he nods. If it makes his angel happy, he will gladly drive to Liverpool Street. And the breakfast they serve there is in fact very good.   
“Alright. Let me get dressed. Make sure they have a table for us, yeah?”   
“Consider it done!”

Curious gazes follow Crowley and Aziraphale when they enter the restaurant and are accompanied to their table. Now more than usual because of Crowley. Despite his round belly, he is still dressed and styled like a man, and attracts attention. Aziraphale is very aware and always ready to speak up to whoever behaves rude. It has happened before, and he’s not going to accept such a behavior towards his husband. Especially not now that he’s pregnant. 

They both order a full English breakfast, only Crowley exchanges the fried eggs for eggs royale. Aziraphale has still a guilty conscience because he invited David for dinner without asking beforehand and is quieter than usual. Halfway through their breakfast Crowley puts his fork down and takes Aziraphale’s hand that is resting next to his plate.   
“Angel - are you alright? You’re unusually silent.”  
Aziraphale avoids his gaze. “I’m sorry. I still feel bad because I invited David for dinner.”  
Crowley sighs. “I said it’s okay. You want to see him, I’ll take care of dinner. It’s fine. And now don’t worry about it anymore.” He lifts Aziraphale’s hand and presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles, not caring about anyone around. And it works. Aziraphale finally looks up and smiles at him.   
“Thank you, my dear. I promise to be more thoughtful.”  
Aziraphale wishes he could see Crowley’s eyes behind the dark glasses. But Crowley’s smile is reassuring enough. They continue their breakfast in companionable silence. 

Saturday morning Aziraphale does the shopping and later tries to be useful in the kitchen. Which is not very much, but Crowley doesn’t complain, because he needs all the help he can get. He doesn’t feel too well today and is a little grumpy. Aziraphale tries to stay out of the way and just do what Crowley tells him and not complain or criticise. 

Seven o’clock comes and goes. Crowley rubs his back and groans: “I still don’t know if this is a good idea. Maybe he won’t come at all. He is already late.”  
“It’s only a few minutes.”  
“Yes. But we cooked for him. It’s a matter of politeness to show up on time!”  
“I am sure he’ll be here any minute.”  
Aziraphale whirls around, when there is a knock at the bookshop’s door.   
“I’ll go let him in!”   
He hurries out and down the stairs and Crowley sighs. They have never done something like this before: inviting humans into their home. He doesn’t feel comfortable letting strangers into their life like this. Because David is a stranger to them. Only because he sells books like Aziraphale doesn’t mean they have to be friends with him. They don’t need friends. And on top, they are soon to be parents, they are starting a family! 

With a grim expression Crowley turns towards the stove and stirs the sauce in one of the pots. He doesn’t need anybody except Aziraphale. He doesn’t want anybody except Aziraphale. Especially not in their home, not when they are expecting a baby, not when Crowley is already in the nesting phase - as much as he would deny he is doing a thing like that. But he _is_ nesting, preparing for the arrival of their child. And therefore everyone apart from Aziraphale feels like an intruder, and Crowley has to suppress his urge to just lock the door and refuse to let David in. 

“Good evening.”   
Crowley plasters a smile on his face, before he turns. “Hi, David.”  
“Thank you for having me. I know you’re not allowed wine, but I brought some anyway.” David lifts a bottle of Merlot, and Crowley sighs before he tries to shrug it off.   
“It’s fine. Thank you. Please, take a seat. Dinner’s ready.”

They eat in the kitchen. Crowley is very quiet. He lets Aziraphale and David do most of the talking. As was to be expected, they mostly talk about books, antiquities and some more topics Crowley has no interest in. Only when they have finished dessert, Aziraphale and David have finally found another topic: traveling. At least this is something Crowley can participate in, but he still isn’t in the mood and only adds a few commentaries. He hasn’t eaten that much, but he can’t anyway with the baby occupying most of the space in his body. It’s warm in the kitchen - much too warm for Crowley’s liking. He usually seeks warmth, it’s part of his nature, and feels most comfortable in the summer. Since the pregnancy, though, he often feels overheated. Must be a part of being pregnant. With a little groan he gets up and opens one of the windows. A fresh winter breeze cools his heated cheeks. He closes his eyes for a moment to enjoy the feeling. When he opens them again, a tiny black shadow rushes past him, and he startles. 

“What the hell?!”   
A little bird has lost its way and is now fluttering around in the kitchen in a panic. Aziraphale and David jump to their feet.

“Let me get a broom.” Aziraphale says and wants to go searching for his broom.   
“Don’t! Please!” David steps into his way. He lifts both hands, his eyes searching for the little bird. Crowley has taken a step back, all three of them are looking up. The fluttering of tiny wings is clearly to be heard, while the sparrow is desperately searching for his way out. David hurries to open the other window and then gives way. Aziraphale has stopped and is watching. And thankfully after just a few more moments the bird finds its way and flies out of the window. Aziraphale hurries to close the windows and takes a relieved breath. Then he turns towards David.  
“I wasn’t going to hurt it.”

“Sorry…” sighs David and looks at them. “I am sorry. It’s just… it was frightened. And… do you know the old myth about the sparrows?”   
“What myth? About the sparrows being able to see souls?” asks Crowley.   
David turns to him and smiles. “Yes. You know it.”  
“I do. There are many rooms in the house of god. One is a great hall called the Guf. It is believed that every child that is born gets its soul from the Guf. The only ones who can see the souls are the sparrows. And every time the sparrows see a soul leave the Guf, they begin to sing. It’s a very old myth.” Crowley feels goosebumps crawl up his spine. David looks at him now, his gaze seems to be even more intense. How does he know this myth?

“It is in fact very old. Seldom written down. But it is a beautiful story, don’t you agree?” David asks, voice soft.   
“It’s been ages since I’ve last heard it.”  
“You still know it by heart, though. How did you learn about it?”  
Crowley hesitates for a second. “I… used to live close to a synagogue a long time ago. There was a rabbi who told the children in the neighborhood about old myths.” It’s not even a real lie. Crowley has in fact known a rabbi long ago who has done exactly that. Back in Galilee…   
“Must have been a very knowledgable man. And a kind one.”  
“He was…” Crowley admits and bites his tongue to keep himself from saying more. Why is it that he suddenly wants to talk about these old times?

Aziraphale sees Crowley struggle and intervenes. “Thank god the little bird found its way out safely. Would you like some coffee, David?”  
David is still looking at Crowley. It takes another moment before he turns towards Aziraphale.  
“No. Thank you, Ezra. I shouldn’t keep you up too long. It’s getting late, and I bet Anthony needs his sleep. I really enjoyed the evening. I promise to return the favour very soon.” David shakes Crowley's hand, and Aziraphale sees him out. 

When Aziraphale is back, he begins to clear the table. Crowley sits down, reaches for Aziraphale’s wine glass and takes a sip, watching the angel and thinking.   
“He is odd. Have you seen how he looks at my belly?”  
“Did he, really? I didn’t notice anything unusual. People tend to look at your belly more, you’re obviously male but are pregnant.”  
“That’s different. He is looking at me as if… as if he feels sorry.”  
“Sorry? I can’t believe that. You worry too much, my love.” Aziraphale is finished cleaning the table and starts to fill the sink with hot water.   
“I am not imagining that,” protests Crowley and crosses his arms over his chest, “And I am going to find out what’s wrong with him.”  
“You will do no such thing!” Aziraphale turns around and gives Crowley a stern look. “I like him. He may be a little odd, but we certainly are, too. I don’t want you to do something silly.”  
“Sssilly?” hisses Crowley, “Sssilly? I am only careful! I don’t want any harm done to our baby! And there is something about our baby that interests him more than it should!”

Aziraphale sighs. If Crowley is in such a mood, he is a little difficult to handle. And since they discovered the pregnancy, his hormones are making him react differently.   
“Crowley… I get that you’re very protective of our child. Just like you should be. But I think you’re overreacting. Please sleep a night over it.” He begins to do the washing up.   
“How does he know about the Guf? The last time I met someone who knew about this story was about 2.000 years ago.”  
“I don’t know. Maybe he read about it. Why does it bother you?”  
“Why _doesn’t_ it bother you? You and I both know the Guf is real!” Crowley stares at Aziraphale’s back. The angel has rolled up his sleeves and is busy with the cutlery and crockery.   
“Well, yes. But the story is in fact known. I wouldn’t worry so much.”  
Crowley huffs. Why doesn’t Aziraphale understand? How can he ignore his worries? The wellbeing of their child should be of the utmost priority. 

While Aziraphale continues the washing up Crowley leaves the kitchen and carefully makes his way downstairs to the bookshop. He doesn’t know what exactly it is that made him come down here. Maybe the soothing presence of Aziraphale’s many books. Maybe the urge to look for a hint why he feels this uneasy. One hand rubbing his lower back, Crowley is slowly wandering along the shelves. His fingertips caress the backs of the books. He has learned to like this feeling. Strange enough, since he is doesn’t read frequently. He tends to listen to audio books from time to time and loves when Aziraphale reads for him. But apart from that books are not that important to him. Still he finds their smell kind of soothing. And all the knowledge that is stored in them, all the time and effort humans have put into creating them, fills him with some kind of awe. He gets why books are so important to Aziraphale. 

Crowley has now reached the section with all of Aziraphale’s religious books. He owns a wide range of religious texts from all over the world and every religion. Crowley’s thoughts are still occupied with David and the story about the Guf. It might sound like a nice old myth with the sparrows and the children. But something is worrying him. Why mention this story to a pregnant being? Because there is more to this story than just sparrows singing when a child gets its soul. When the Guf is empty and there are no more souls left, this would mean the end of the world. 

Crowley shivers. He instinctively pulls his cardigan close over his baby bump. He shakes his head. That’s just stupid. They have successfully avoided Armageddon. Why should this old myth have any meaning? If the world was supposed to end, it could have ended two years ago. But still there is this feeling that makes Crowley uneasy. He remembers the news about the outburst of the plague and the report about the blood in the Thames. Scientists have already declared the phenomenon with the blood red water with a rare occurrence: an algal bloom. A massive amount of a fertilizer had accidentally been poured out into the river and has caused this excessive growth of microorganisms. In this case a special kind of algae with a deep red colour. Aziraphale has shown him some articles about it. Crowley has been relieved there was a scientific explanation, but now his doubts are back. 

Aziraphale’s voice comes from upstairs: “Darling, what are you doing down there?”   
Crowley shakes his head. He shouldn’t think about these strange things. He shouldn’t think about David. He has something much more important to think about: his baby.   
“Don’t worry, little one. Daddy’s going to protect you,” Crowley murmurs, looking down at his round belly. Then he raises his voice: “Comin’, angel!”  
He switches off the lights and climbs the stairs again.  
“What did you do in the shop?”  
“Erm… just checking if you locked up. Everything’s fine.”  
“Sometimes you still surprise me, Crowley.”  
“Promise not to do it again.”  
“Oh, no, wily serpent. Please do surprise me.”  
“With what exactly?”  
“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, right?”  
“Aziraphale, sometimes you make no sense. I’m going to bed. You coming?”  
“Later. Sleep well, my dear. And you too, little one…”


	6. The next sign

Time flies, and soon January is nearly over. Crowley tries not to complain too much, but Aziraphale can see how tired he already is. One morning Crowley is still asleep, when Aziraphale switches on the telly for the morning news since he is too lazy to go out and buy a morning paper and doesn’t want to waste a miracle on it. And today he is greeted with images that fill his heart with sadness - and new concern. 

“All along the coast of the north sea we see the same pattern. Fish of every species from herring to codfish, from mackerel to little sharks are washed up the shores. Coastal towns in every country have also reported not only about hundreds of thousands of dead fish but also about stranded dolphins and seals. Animal welfare campaigners and residents have been trying to help the animals back into the water, but a great amount of them were already dead. Marine biologists have so far no explanation. The estimation of how many animals have died range up to a million or more. Fishermen all along the coast have expressed their concern and shock.”

While Aziraphale listens, the scenario on screen shows different places in different countries and everywhere the same horrible images: Dead fish everywhere in every size and shape. Beaches with stranded dolphins and little whales, devastated people trying to help, many crying.  
Aziraphale’s heart is racing. He thinks back to the blood in the river Thames. To the outbursts of leprosy and the plague. And he knows deep down in his soul this can’t be a coincidence. These things are too familiar. And hint at something unimaginable. But can it really be signs from god? And why? Aziraphale considers to contact heaven about it, but finally decides not to. He is not welcome anymore. He will hardly get answers - provided that he is allowed to visit heaven. He can’t know. And if he’s honest with himself he would very much prefer not to have any contact with his former head office. 

When Aziraphale hears the bedroom door opening, he hastily switches off the telly. A grumpy demon with a hurting back demands his attention, a massage and a hot water bottle, and Aziraphale jumps at the opportunity to ignore the news from this morning to take care of Crowley. All the more since they are invited to David’s in the evening. Aziraphale knows Crowley doesn’t really want to go, but once more has agreed to such a social meeting - for Aziraphale’s sake. So he tries to help Crowley with the pain to lighten his mood for the evening. And to ensure that, he also decides to keep Crowley from reading or hearing any news. It’s only five weeks until the due date of their baby. Crowley loves being pregnant, but it’s getting more and more exhausting with every passing day. He doesn’t complain, but Aziraphale can see it in the way he moves and in the lines on his face. Therefore he is not very fond of the invitation Aziraphale has gotten from David. He remembers the conversation they had about it.

“I don’t feel like visiting someone.”  
“But he invited us.”  
“Can’t you excuse me?”  
“He asked for you. When ever we talk he is very nicely asking if you’re alright and about the baby.”  
Crowley was immediately alert again. “Why would he do such a thing? Angel, we barely know him. Why is he so interested in us - especially me and our child? I already told you, I find this strange.”  
“He has been abroad for a long time, he has no friends here in London. He is just being polite. And a little lonely.”  
“There are nearly nine million people in London, and of all these people he tries to befriend us?”  
“Oh come on. At least he has his oven fixed and will cook for us. We don’t have to stay long. But I really want to give him this book I found in my art section. It would be perfect for his shop and his collection.”  
“Then do what you must, but don’t expect me to be my brightest self.” 

This had been a few days ago, and Aziraphale had silently feared Crowley would refuse to accompany him. But to his surprise he hasn’t complained too much. But right now Crowley groans when he heaves himself out of the Bentley. David has his flat in Hoxton. He had given Aziraphale the address. The angel is excited to meet him - a notion Crowley can’t understand. But this seems to be important to Aziraphale, so he plays along. David has a flat on the 4th floor of an apartment building, and thankfully the lift works. David welcomes them with a smile.  
“I am glad you could make it. I don’t cook as well as you, but I hope you will have mercy on me. Come in.”  
David takes their coats and hangs them up. “I’m sorry, the flat is really small. I hope you don’t mind.”  
They follow David into the main room of the flat. The kitchen is part of the living room. A sofa and a large desk dominate the space. The desk is covered in papers and parchments, old books and note pads. A table is set up in the only free space in the middle of the living room. 

“I can dim the lights if it’s more comfortable for you, Anthony,” David offers, but Crowley scoffs.  
“I’m fine.”  
“I just thought maybe you would like to take your glasses off.”  
“I don’t. I have a very special eye condition.”  
“Anthony’s eyes are very sensitive to light. Don’t take it personally,” says Aziraphale, trying to steer them away from the subject. It’s making Crowley uncomfortable and defensive.  
“Oh, I don’t,” David smiles, “I really don’t. Must be uncomfortable. Separates you from others. It’s never nice being different. All the more since you’re a trans man. Must have been difficult for you.”  
“I’m used to it. Have been through worse.”  
“How are things going with the baby? Is everything alright?”

Before Crowley can give a rude answer, Aziraphale jumps in. “Oh, everything is just lovely. The baby is fine. Thanks for asking. I’ve brought something for you.”  
He hands David the book, wrapped in paper.  
“Oh, you shouldn’t have. Thank you.” David unwraps the book and swallows.  
“Ezra, where did you get that?”  
“I found it in my shop taking stock. I thought it would fit much better in your collection than mine.”  
“I can’t. This is to valuable.”  
“It’s a gift, and I’m not taking it back.”  
“While you two argue about this stupid book, I’m taking a seat, okay?” Crowley makes his way to the table and sits with a sigh. “Can I have some water?”

An hour later Crowley looks at his plate, pushing the contents of his meal around, not really eating anymore.  
“I have seen many books of prophecy and religious texts in your book shop, Ezra. Are you religious?” David asks.  
Aziraphale freezes for a second, swallows and then answers: “We don’t go to church. We wouldn’t be welcome there.”  
“You can be religious without going to church.”  
“Well, yes, or course. But…”  
“I was always told that religion is not the best topic for a dinner conversation,” Crowley interjects. The last thing he wants to talk about right now is religion.  
“I didn’t take you for men who lived following usual standards. My question was asked with an intention.”  
“Oh. Which intention?” Crowley quips.  
“Well, there are myths. Old stories. Old believes. We talked about the Guf when I was over at yours. Do you think these myths have actual origins?”  
“What does it matter?”  
“Aren’t you curious if there is more behind it? If there is more than our eyes like to see?”  
David looks at them with an unreadable expression that makes even Aziraphale uneasy. 

“What do you mean - more than our eyes like to see? Wonders? Angels? Demons?” Crowley growls.  
“Darling…” Aziraphale puts a hand onto Crowley’s thigh. This is dangerous territory.  
“Yes, for example,” retorts David.  
“You should be careful what you want to see. You should be careful about what you ask and who you ask.”  
“What’s wrong with wanting answers? Knowledge is important.” 

Crowley glares at him through his dark glasses. Demanding answers hasn’t ended well for him… “God is playing an ineffable game of their own devising. For everyone else it’s like playing poker in a pitch-dark room, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won’t tell the rules and who smiles all the time. I’ll translate this for you, David: You can never know what is on God’s mind. It’s not for anyone to know.”  
“But one can still ask.”  
“You won’t get any answers. Believe me, other men but you have tried. And no matter what they offered, no matter how they begged, how they hoped - you won’t get answers. You’ll only fall.”  
“Like Lucifer and the renegade angels?”

Silence falls onto them. Crowley’s grinding his teeth. Aziraphale swallows hard.  
“I think Anthony was right when he said religion is not suited for a dinner conversation. And it’s a sensitive topic for us. I would very much appreciate if we changed the subject now.”  
David looks at both of them, then leans back with a smile and lifts his hands.  
“You’re right. And I am sorry. We don’t know each other long enough for such a conversation. I apologize. More wine, Ezra?”  
Aziraphale gives a curt nod and takes a relieved breath, when David gets up to fetch the wine bottle from his kitchen counter. Under the table Crowley reaches for Aziraphale’s hand and squeezes it in a silent thank you. 

David pours Aziraphale another glass of wine and takes his seat again.  
“What do you think about the news about the dead fish? Aren’t these images disturbing?” David asks, offering some more bread to them. Aziraphale takes some, while Crowley shakes his head and instead looks at Aziraphale, brows furrowed. David catches the confused expression on his face.  
“Didn’t you watch the news?”  
“No, I didn’t. Wasn’t feeling very well today. Why? What happened?” His question is obviously directed at Aziraphale. The angel blushes slightly.  
“Well… I must have forgotten to tell you. There are reports about masses of dead fish and other marine animals washed ashore along the coast of the North Sea.”  
“Masses of dead fish? Are you serious?”  
“I’m sure it’s just an aberration. Scientists will find an explanation. Don’t worry, my dear.” Beneath the table it’s now Aziraphale who squeezes Crowley’s hand with a very little shake of his head meaning: _Not now. Keep up appearances._

Crowley’s heart is thundering in his chest. That makes how many strange occurrences? Three already: plagues and illness, the river turning to blood, the ocean dying… This all rings too many bells, it just can’t be a coincidence. And David’s strange question about religion and his remark about fallen angels… Every bit of appetite he had leaves him now for good. He would love to jump up, take Aziraphale with him and leave. They have to look into this. This isn’t right. And still David is looking at them with this intensity that makes Crowley’s skin crawl. A little kick to his ribs from the inside makes him flinch.  
“Ouch,” he says and rubs over the spot. “Sorry. Baby’s kicking.”  
“Are you tired, my dear? You look like it.” Crowley jumps at the offered excuse from Aziraphale.  
“Yes. I didn’t sleep well last night. My back is killing me, and the baby is most agile when I want to sleep.”  
“I should take you home,” Aziraphale states with determination, then turns to David.  
“I’m sorry. Thank you for your invitation and your time and effort. But I worry about my husband.”  
David stands up again. “Don’t apologize. I understand. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought these topics up. Let me get your coats.”

Angel and demon stand up, and Crowley leans against Aziraphale for a second, whispering “Thank you…” into his ear. Aziraphale runs his hand over Crowley’s back, kisses his cheek.  
“This is not how I imagined this dinner.”  
“I know.”  
They make their way to the door, where David hands them their coats.  
“Again, I apologize to you both,” David says.  
“It’s alright. Please excuse our early leave.”  
“No need. Anthony’s comfort is much more important. I understand. I’ll see you soon, Ezra. Good night.”  
“Night.”

Crowley takes a deep breath, when he sits down in the Bentley. Aziraphale expects him to drive off as fast as he can, but instead Crowley puts both hands on the steering wheel and looks straight forward.  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. His voice is low, but steady and calm.  
Aziraphale has to compose himself for a moment. He had expected Crowley to ask him, but right now Aziraphale is a little lost what to say.  
“I… I should have told you. I’m sorry. But I didn’t want to upset you before our dinner with David, and…”  
“I get that this dinner was important to you. But you can’t just do something like this. You can’t lie to me, Aziraphale.”  
“I didn’t lie, I just… didn’t tell.”  
“And that’s not lying?” Crowley is still not looking at him, and that hurts much more than a temper tantrum. Aziraphale lowers his head, his shoulders slump forward. “You’re right. I apologize.”  
Crowley takes a breath as if to say something more. Instead he turns the key in the ignition. The engine comes to life, and Crowley drives them home in silence. 

Back in Soho Crowley unlocks the door to Aziraphale’s shop instead of entering the house through the side entrance like they usually do after closing hours. He switches the lights on and pulls all the blinds of the shop windows down before he gets rid of his down jacket and throws his glasses onto a table. Aziraphale watches him in confusion.  
“What are you doing? Aren’t you tired?”  
“I don’t have time to sleep now. We have to find out what’s going on.” Crowley walks into the section with Aziraphale’s precious books of prophecy.  
“Come here, angel. This is your collection. You should know better than me where to find something about this.”  
Aziraphale follows him. Crowley is standing in front of the shelves with his most valued books in a far away corner of the shop. 

“So - we know what happened with Moses and Ramses in Egypt and why. This is a countdown, angel. But we must find out what countdown and what happens at the end of it. You have to help me here.”  
Aziraphale looks at him for a second, then he takes off his coat and jacket, too.  
“Alright. Let me think…” He studies the backs of the books and then chooses the first one.  
“This may take all night, Crowley.”  
“Don’t care. I’m here to help you find something. Go on.” 

An hour later they are both sitting next to stacks of old books. Crowley has chosen one of Aziraphale’s armchairs while the angel has emptied his bureau and has instead assembled an assortment of books, parchments and scrolls. It’s quiet in the shop, except for the low whisper of pages being turned and an occasional scratching of a pen on a notepad. Aziraphale is working very concentrated. He hasn’t read ancient Greek or Aramaic in a very long time, and he is a little rusty. Crowley is a natural when it comes to languages. He speaks the most important ones fluently (that makes a least ten, when Aziraphale thinks about it), and Latin is among them. Aziraphale knows why Crowley is not so fond of reading. But right now he is determined to help Aziraphale find the right answers. 

At some point in the wee hours of the morning Aziraphale hears nothing more from Crowley. When he goes looking for him, the demon still sits in Aziraphale’s armchair, a stack of books on the table next to him. But Crowley is sleeping, one of the books in his lap, his head in his hand and elbow on the armrest. This can’t be comfortable, but Aziraphale decides to leave it for the moment. He goes to fetch the throw from the sofa in the back and gently drapes it around Crowley’s shoulders. Then he goes to make himself a cup of tea before he returns to his reading. 

“Ow…” complains Crowley an hour later. His back is a mess, and he has cricked his neck from his position in the armchair. He rubs over his neck and shoulder and tries to change his position. Everything hurts.  
“Did you say something, darling?” Aziraphale asks from where he sits over his work.  
“Why didn’t you wake me? I’ll feel this for the rest of the day.”  
“So sorry. But I thought you needed some sleep.”  
“Hmpf… Did you find something?”  
With a loud groan Crowley stand up and tries to stretch his back and rolls his shoulders. He should take a hot shower. That usually helps. But first he has to know if Aziraphale has already found something. He slowly makes his way over to Aziraphale’s bureau. The angel turns on his chair. He looks a little tired, too. His reading glasses sit on his nose which always makes him look unbearably cute. A thought Crowley always dismisses as fast as it occurs. Cute is no word he would usually use. Aziraphale is surrounded by every book of prophecy, every mythical text he owns, several bibles, scrolls in all kinds of languages - he has tried to read everything he can to find out what’s going on - and what they can do about it. And he is not happy with what he found. The situation is serious. But there seems to be a small hope, a possibility to stop this. 

Aziraphale sighs and rubs his palms over his trouser legs. His hands are dusty from all the old paper. “I did. In some old scrolls and jewish prophecies…” He takes off his glasses, then stands.  
“Sit down, my dear. You look worn out.”  
“I just got up. ‘m fine. Tell me what you found.” Crowley still stretches his long limbs, trying to loosen the knots in his muscles. Aziraphale looks at him. Crowley may have slept for a few hours, but he doesn’t look well rested. On the contrary. He seems to have had bad dreams.  
“You didn’t sleep well, I assume?”  
Crowley shakes his head, but stays silent, waiting for Aziraphale to tell him if he found something.  
Aziraphale looks down at the table top of his bureau, covered in ancient scripts. 

“Everything hints at the second coming of Jesus, that’s what it’s called in one of the prophecies. The things that happened are connected. Like a countdown. Just like you said. They’re called the seven signs. We already witnessed the first: plague and sickness, the rivers turning to blood, the oceans dying. What’s to come next are strange weather phenomenons like snow in the desert, things like that. Then the death of the last martyr. The script wasn’t very specific what that means, and I didn’t find more about this sign. Next are earthquakes and and unexpected eclipse.”  
He pauses. His heart is beating harder than before. He dreads Crowley’s reaction when he tells him about the last sign… 

“In the end the script said Jesus would come back to earth and… end it. Everything.” Aziraphale hopes against hope that Crowley won’t notice. But of course he does. He’s the smartest demon Aziraphale has ever come across.  
“That was only six signs. What is the last one?” Crowley asks, voice low. Aziraphale tries to busy himself with the scrolls, moves some to another spot, but Crowley comes closer.  
“Aziraphale - what is the last sign?”  
The angel freezes. He doesn’t want to tell him, but he has to. He looks up, a pained expression on his face.  
“The seventh sign is the birth of a soulless baby. Stillborn like a soulless baby has to be… That’s the exact words in the prophecy…” he says with a slight tremble in his voice. 

Crowley swallows. He takes a step back again, but says nothing. He looks pale.  
“That doesn’t mean it has something to do with our child! I can’t find anything more. Nothing about the baby being something special. It could be any baby for what we know.”  
“Do you really believe that? Fuck…” Crowley is so shocked he has no clue how to react. Should he panic? Should he be furious? What is he supposed to feel, to do? Is it normal to react like this? Aziraphale has just told him that the end of the world is connected to the birth of a dead baby, and he is heavily pregnant! He’s pregnant… it could be him… Somebody, what is happening? Why? He hugs himself with both arms, a shiver runs down his spine. What has mankind done to deserve its end? They have saved them, once. Maybe they can do it again. 

Aziraphale watches Crowley, unsure what to do or say. The demon is watching him intently.  
“Is there anything we can do?” he asks finally, determination in his voice.  
“I was trying to find something to avoid this. I have read everything in my possession that may have a connection to what’s happening. And I am fairly sure we can do something about this. All we have to do is stop one of the signs from happening and the chain will be broken.”

Crowley scoffs and runs a hand through his hair. “You must be joking. How do you want to avoid a hailstorm? Or an eclipse? We can’t stop things like these, not even with all your powers! And I don’t even have any at the moment…”  
“But there must be something! Or…” Aziraphale takes a deep breath before he comes over to Crowley. He reaches up and cups Crowley’s cheek in his palm. “Or we leave. Alpha Centauri, remember?”

Crowley’s facial expression changes from annoyed to outright painful.  
“Not me, angel… I have lost all my powers. I can’t even miracle myself a cup of tea anymore. And your powers will never be enough to transport us both and the baby to a place light years away. The other side of the pavement, maybe. But not Alpha Centauri.”  
“I can at least try it! I am a principality, you shouldn’t underestimate me, my dear!”

Now Crowley smiles a little. “I know, Zira. I know you are far more powerful than you show to anyone. But all the three of us? To Alpha Centauri? No… But you should go. No need in both of us witnessing the end of the world first hand.”  
“You must certainly be joking!” protests Aziraphale, “How dare you say I should leave you and our baby to die here!” 

Crowley can see the amount of feelings the angel is fighting with. And of course Crowley doesn’t want to die, obviously - and even more obviously he doesn’t want their baby to die. But if there is nothing he can do except protect the love of his live, the most important being he ever met, then he is certainly willing to try to keep at least Aziraphale alive. He is only a demon, not even worth the love Aziraphale feels for him. And if this is the price to pay… 

“I know I don’t deserve an eternal happy life. Never expected to have one. I had more than I ever hoped for. I don’t want you to die here. If there is only the slightest chance you get out of this alive, then you have to take it.”  
Aziraphale gets angry. “Are you listening to yourself, you stupid serpent? I am not going anywhere without you and our child! And I won’t give up this easily! How can you just stand there and tell me to leave you? And not even try to do something!”  
“And what is there to do? You just told me the next signs. We surely can’t avoid an eclipse, can we,” Crowley snarls, coming to life again, fighting again. That gives Aziraphale hope. At least they have to try! 

“That leaves only one thing. The last martyr - what does that even mean? Are there still martyrs nowadays? Isn’t the concept a little outdated?” growls Crowley and begins pacing the bookshop. He is biting one of his nails, the other hand is fiddling with a loose thread of his shirt.  
“Not at all. It’s still a common thing in the catholic church. But there are so many people suffering because of their religious believes… how are we supposed to find out about the right one? It can be any ordinary young man or woman being suppressed in their home country. We would never know.”  
“Can’t you try your luck with your head office? Maybe they know a thing or two.”  
Aziraphale sighs. If he doesn’t want to do one thing it surely is visiting heaven. 

“I don’t think they monitor everyone who is possible to become a martyr. And even if they do, how do we choose among them?”  
“But you said we would try to find a way to break the chain! Finding the last martyr and rescuing them is the only thing we can do at all!”  
“I know that!” For the first time Aziraphale raises his voice, and Crowley stops his pacing to look at him. They stare at each other.  
“Well, then that’s what we should concentrate on.”  
“And how do we do that?”  
“You research the internet. Try to find something. Anything.”  
“And you?”  
“I will see someone.”  
“Who?”  
“I’ll tell you afterwards.”  
Aziraphale shakes his head. He doesn’t like Crowley’s tone and even less that he won’t tell him what he’s planning.  
“I don’t want you to put yourself into danger.”  
“I won’t. Promise. But since you won’t leave me - us” he gestures towards his belly, “I have to find a way to keep you safe, don’t I? I’ve always done that, not going to stop now.”


	7. A reunion with the Antichrist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter, but the next will make up to it... 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads, who leaves kudos and comments! You make me a very happy writer!

“Anathema - it’s Crowley. Listen, I need your help. You have become friends with Adam Young’s mum, right?”  
Anathema hesitates. She hasn’t heard that much from Crowley or Aziraphale during the last months. Only the occasional whatsapp message or Skype call from Crowley, now and then a call from Aziraphale to hear if everything is alright in Tadfield. She hasn’t seen either of them personally for a year. And now the demon calls, seemingly out of nowhere, but she has a feeling she knows, why he gets into contact right now.   
“Hello, Crowley. Nice to hear something from you. I wouldn’t say I am close friends with Deirdre, but we have tea together every few weeks. And the children visit me, of course. Why?”  
“I need a favour. Things have happened recently… I have to meet Adam. I have to ask him some things. Do you think you could arrange that?”  
“I can, sure. But why? Is it… about the signs?”

Crowley swallows. He should have guessed that Anathema would observe what was going on. She is a witch, after all. “You have followed them, too. And, yes, it’s about the signs. And… me. I have to explain some things to you, before you talk to Adam. Prepare him for… well, for my appearance. And…” He takes a deep breath.   
“What do you want to tell me, Crowley?”   
Crowley hears tension in Anathema’s voice. “I haven’t told you yet… but I should tell you now, that… Erm… Angels and demons don’t have a gender unless they choose to have one. And since Armageddon didn’t happen, Aziraphale and me… well, we… you know. I am pregnant. With Aziraphale’s baby. And these signs… they seem to be connected to… to me. To our baby. I have to ask Adam about all of that. If he can do something about it.”

Anathema grabs the receiver of her phone so hard her knuckles turn white. “I… Do you really think we should drag him into this?”  
“Please, Anathema! He is the Antichrist!” Crowley’s voice gets louder and higher, he feels himself trembling. “I have to ask him! I have to know if he can do something about it! If the signs are real, then it would mean the end of the world! For real this time! But… we still can’t let that happen! Right? Anathema - right?!”  
“Maybe I shouldn’t have burnt the second edition of Agnes’s prophecies… She would have known. She would have told us.”  
“We have to do without them. Anathema, can you talk to Adam and arrange a meeting as soon as possible? It would only be me. I haven’t told Aziraphale I want to see him.”

Anathema bites her lip. “Of course. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll call you back as soon as possible. Is that okay?”  
“Yes. Thank you. Thank you for doing this. Bye.”  
“Bye…” Anathema hangs up the receiver and stands frozen in place for a few moments. She had in fact done some research about the signs. There had only been three of them, but they had been unmistakable for her. And she had cursed herself many times for destroying Agnes Nutter’s second book. But it’s too late now. She picks up the receiver again and calls Deirdre Young. 

Anathema calls Crowley back in the afternoon to tell him Adam would be at her cottage the next morning around eleven. Crowley promises to be there on time. It’s a Saturday, and Aziraphale is still occupied with his research about the last martyr. He has found some promising candidates, but has no idea how they should be able to tell which is the one they are looking for.

Crowley has chosen to wear a loose fitting blouse and a comfy cardigan for his drive to Tadfield, not wanting to show too much of his pregnant body. Adam may be different from other children, but he is still a child. And Crowley doesn’t want to upset him. He is driving more carefully than usual. It’s been raining all day, and so he needs an hour more to arrive in the small village. When he parks the Bentley in front of Anathema’s cottage he tries to compose himself for a moment and then eventually opens the Bentley’s door. As fast as he can he hurries through the falling rain to the cottage and knocks. Anathema opens only a few moments later.   
“Hi. Come in. Adam is already here.”  
She looks at him, and he can see the curiosity in her eyes. He shrugs off the black coat he is wearing and then retreats a step so she can have a better look, and pushes the fabric of his cardigan aside. Anathema gasps.   
“How far along are you?”  
“Only five weeks left. I am due on February 29th.”

She takes Crowley’s coat and forces herself to smile. “It’s a leap year.”  
“Yes… But that’s the least of my concerns. Aziraphale still doesn’t seem to believe that all this has something to do with our child. But there is this guy who rented a shop nearby. He claims to be a book seller. But there is something about him that makes me uneasy. He knows old stories nobody else knows about. He is too interested in us and our baby. And… I don’t know why, but I know he is not what he claims to be. I feel like I am going mad, Anathema, but I am not imagining all this. I am not!”

“I believe you.” Adam appears in the hallway. Anathema turns around and Crowley turns his attention towards him.   
“Adam…”  
“I can feel it, too. Something is coming.”  
Crowley begins to tremble. Anathema sees him shaking and puts a hand onto his shoulder.  
“Go sit down in the living room. I’m making tea. Have you eaten?”  
“I had breakfast.”  
“I’ll make you a sandwich. Do you want something, too, Adam?”  
Adam shakes his head. Her turns around and goes back into the living room. Crowley follows him as if on autopilot. 

Adam has taken his seat on the sofa. Dog is lying in front of it, occupied with a chewing bone. Crowley choses the armchair opposite. He lowers himself down and hopes he can get up without help at the end of his visit.   
“Is the baby alright?” asks Adam. He has grown a lot since Crowley has last seen him and has lost some of the childlike softness. But his curly hair and his eyes are the same.   
“As far as we know - yes.”  
“Anathema told me you were kind of a woman at the moment. It’s okay.”  
Crowley only nods. He has no clue what to say to that. He feels a series of kicks and movement inside his womb, but ignores it for the moment. 

“Anathema told you what I wanted to talk about. There are things happening. Sure you have heard about them on the news, too. I have seen something similar many centuries ago in Egypt. Do you know anything about all this, Adam?” He watches the boy intently through his dark glasses.   
“Not more than you. I can feel that this is important. But I don’t know who is involved in this. Or why this is happening.”  
“But you’re -” Crowley interrupts himself before he can say _the Antichrist_. He doesn’t want to say this. It’s not Adam’s fault that he is the son of Satan. “You are special. You have powers that are beyond everything the world has ever seen before.”  
“Not anymore.”

“What?” Crowley leans forward, his hands clutch the armrests of the armchair.   
“Things are changing,” says Adam with a shrug, then continues: “When I chose to live here in Tadfield with my parents and my friends, I made a decision. For my future and the future of the world. My powers are fading away. Because I don’t need them. I don’t know if this is a conscious decision, but that doesn’t matter. I can still sense things and know things. But even that changes. I know why you’re here, that’s easy. But I can’t do anything about this. It’s beyond my powers.”

Crowley feels as if he's drenched in ice cold sweat. He swallows against a sudden lump in his throat.   
“But… there must be something. Listen, kid. There is this myth. Well, it’s a myth here on earth, but it has a true origin. The second coming of Jesus is said to bring the end of the world, and there are these harbingers. Rivers turning to blood. Earthquakes. Plagues. Strange weather phenomenons. They all lead up to something.”  
“Yes. I know. I talked to Anathema about it. But I can’t stop them, Crowley.”  
Crowley groans. He throws his head back, bares his teeth. This is not what he wanted to hear. 

Anathema comes in, tea tray in her hands.   
“It’s not his fault. You can’t blame him for something he has nothing to do with,” she says.   
“I don’t blame him for this situation! But how can someone let go of unlimited powers?” snaps Crowley.   
“You and Aziraphale were there. You talked to him. You encouraged him. You said he was human incarnate. Adam did what felt right to him.”  
“I know…” Crowley sighs. While Anathema pours them tea, he looks at Adam again.   
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”  
“You’re scared for your baby. I understand that. But this is a situation that has nothing to do with me, and like I said - I don’t have the powers anymore. I would love to help. I can’t.”

Anathema offers a mug of tea to Crowley. He takes the mug and clutches it in his hands. His hands are cold, and the hot mug seems to scald them. But he doesn’t care. He looks into the amber liquid, trying not to freak out. Adam had been his greatest hope. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the boy move from the sofa to the floor, where Dog is still occupied with his chewing bone. When Crowley looks at him, Adam is taking the little dog into his arms and nuzzles him with his nose behind the soft ears. Dog’s wagging his tail, trying to turn around and lick his master’s face. Crowley looks at Anathema. The young woman looks tense. It’s only now that he sees the dark circles beneath her eyes. And feels bad. These two know what’s going to happen. They will watch the world end. They will watch their loved ones suffer and die at the end. They know they will die, too. Crowley feels bile rise in his throat. It’s the first time he registers how serious this is. People he likes are going to die. Together with the other seven billion on the planet. Maybe his unborn child, too… 

He has always liked humans. He loves earth. But he has never felt such a connection to humans. It had always been a general interest, a universal affection. Now he feels differently. He thinks about his baby inside his womb. Is this an effect of the pregnancy? Most likely… A demon shouldn’t feel that way. But he has always been a bad demon. Much too soft. He has concealed it well most of the time. Now, though, his soft side has finally won over. No wonder. He is carrying a new life… 

Crowley is pulled out of his train of thought when Adam gets up. “I have to go home. My grandma is coming over for lunch, and my dad would kill me if I’m late.”   
Crowley looks at him, sees a flicker of fear in the boy’s eyes. He sets his tea mug on the small side table next to his armchair and takes off his glasses.   
“Adam… I didn’t want to be rude.”  
“We’re all scared. It’s okay to be scared.”  
Once again Crowley is surprised. Adam always was and always will be an extraordinary boy. And he won’t deny the obvious.   
“You’re right. I am scared. But I can’t do nothing. I have too much to lose. We all have too much to lose.”  
“Do something, then. I would help, if I could.”  
“You already said that.” Crowley tries to smile, but it isn’t much more but a miserable grin. “Take care.”  
“You, too. Bye, Anathema. Come on, Dog.”   
“Bye, sweetie. See you soon,” Anathema says and looks after Adam while he leaves, Dog trotting after him. She sighs and sits down on the sofa. Dog has forgotten his chewing bone, and Anathema nudges it with her foot. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks.   
Crowley groans. “Unless you know a way to stop a millennia old prophecy from happening? Then yes, your help would be very much appreciated.” He rubs over his forehead. Damn, he is tired… the drive back to London will be hell…   
“Do you know the whole prophecy?” he asks and reaches for his tea again.   
Anathema nods. “Aziraphale is not the only one collecting prophecies. My family has done so, too. After the river Thames I knew something important was happening. It took me a few days and the next sign to figure it out.”  
“Any suggestions, then? Aziraphale said the chain can be broken. He’s at home, trying to find out who the last martyr may be. This is our only chance to do something.”   
“Do you think you can find him?”  
Crowley scoffs. “I don’t have a fucking clue. This damn last martyr could be everyone and everywhere.”

Anathema doesn’t know what to say. The chances to find this last martyr are… not good. Crowley is very aware, she can tell. And of course this whole situation upsets him. Also not good in his condition.   
“Can I do something for you?”  
“Do you know how to find this damn martyr or know how to avoid an earthquake? I don’t think so. But thank you for asking Adam to see me.”  
“I wish it had been helpful. You know, the boy has really grown up since I first met him.”  
“Yeah…” Crowley is not sure what to say or do now. He silently finishes his tea and accepts the sandwich Anathema made for him.   
She waits until he has finished it, before she asks: “So you’re finally together. You and Aziraphale.”  
Crowley nearly chokes on his las bit of sandwich. He clears his throat and blushes visibly.  
“Erm… yes. Obviously.” He gestures to his baby bump, which makes Anathema chuckle.   
“You could have told us. I mean… it’s not that we didn’t suspect it.”  
“Well, we… we were still so new to this couple business…”  
Now the witch smiles reassuringly. “It’s fine, Crowley. No need to be embarrassed. I just wish I could provide you with some help.”  
“Appreciate it, Anathema. But I should go back to London. See if Aziraphale has already found something.”  
“You can call me. Anytime. If you want to talk. Both of you.”  
Crowley nods his thanks, then heaves himself out of the armchair and puts his glasses back on.   
“Again thank you.”   
“No need to thank me. All the best for all the three of you.” She follows him to the door and hands him his coat. Crowley considers to hug her, but it would feel much to awkward for both of them. So he just flashes her a smile.   
“Take care, witch.”   
“You too, demon.”   
And he walks back to his car. Thank someone the rain has stopped for now which he is grateful for for his drive back to London.


	8. The fourth sign

Nearly an hour later back in London’s city centre Crowley is waiting at a red traffic light when he spots a familiar figure on the other side of the road. He’s immediately alert. That’s David walking along the street in the same direction Crowley is driving. Crowley swallows hard, looks around if there is a spot to park his car and follow him. Maybe he can find out some more about David. But he has to hurry, or he will lose him among all the other people and just hopes the traffic light changes to green. It’s only few seconds until it does, but it seems like an eternity to Crowley. He hits the gas and searches for a place to stop and leave the Bentley. He may not be able to miracle like he used to, but luck seems to be still with him. He turns right and finds a spot to park the car. If he gets a ticket, then so be it. He gets out of the car and quickly walks back to the main road, anxiously looking for David. He is relieved when he sees him. Even on the crowded London streets David is easy to follow. He’s tall and wears a long, dark brown coat and a bright blue scarf that stands out like a signal. 

At one point David turns around a corner. Crowley hurries after him as fast as he can in his state, glad that the rain has stopped for now. He is already a little out of breath, but he can’t risk to walk slower if he doesn’t want to lose David. He follows him for a few minutes and flinches, when he sees David open the door to a church. Damn. Consecrated ground doesn’t go well with him. He remembers like yesterday the last time he went into a church, and for him it actually is just yesterday. He had saved Aziraphale from being discorporated by these moronic Nazis. Crowley hasn’t shown Aziraphale back then in how much pain he really was. The soles of his feet had burned for days afterwards. If it was only him, he would have followed David. But Crowley has no clue if a visit to a church can cause his baby any harm. So he decides not to risk it. Like with all churches there is barely a way to look inside. Maybe there is an open side door and he can take a look inside, see if he can spot David somewhere. 

The sign at the door tells Crowley he is standing in front of a roman catholic church. The sign also tells about the time of masses and visiting hours. There is no mass at the moment. Crowley is pacing in front of the church, considering if he should try to enter or not. In the end he decides for the least painful option. He pushes the door open and is relieved to find there is no second door to shield the people inside from curious glances. It’s only a small church, and it’s an old one. Crowley can see that the benches are darkened from the countless hands that must have rested on them in prayer. The glass windows are only small, but colorful, so it’s relatively dark inside. All the more because of the dark clouds hanging deep over London. Crowley’s gaze wanders over the benches until he sees a familiar head and the dark coat and blue scarf in one of them. David is kneeling, head bowed in prayer. Crowley swallows, looks down at the floor. He really shouldn’t enter, he would raise to much attention when the consecrated ground burns through the soles of his boots. Although - maybe it will not be that bad, he has chosen boots with a very thick rubber sole for today…

A priest approaches Crowley, the heavy cloth of his dark habit whispering. He is smiling at him.  
“My child, you are most welcome to enter. Though I would very much appreciate if you closed the door. It’s cold outside.”  
Crowley swallows. “Oh, I… no, I just thought I had seen someone I know entering the church. But I must have mistaken him for someone else. I’m sorry to have disturbed,” Crowley answers, only whispering. He doesn’t want David to notice him and tries to hide behind the open door. 

“Why don’t you come in and sit down for a moment and rest?” The priest looks at Crowley’s baby bump, still smiling.  
“No, I’m fine. This is not really my scene…”  
The priest chuckles. “Is that your way to put you don’t believe in God? Rest assured, my child, He believes in you. No matter if you believe in Him. He will be there for you, when you need Him.”  
Crowley scoffs. “Oh, I don’t think so, father.”  
“Well, we will all have to wait and see in the end, right, my child?”  
“Yes… I suppose so…”  
“All the best for you. And your baby. God bless you two.”  
Crowley is biting his tongue for a second before he answers something offending. Then he nods.  
“Thank you, father…” He turns and carefully closes the door. 

Priests… strange creatures. If the priest had known whom he has just spoken to… But what now? He can’t know how long David will stay in the church, and Crowley feels cold and tired. Nevertheless he stays for half an hour, hidden behind the corner of the church. But when David doesn’t leave the church, Crowley gives up. His back is hurting badly, and Aziraphale will surely be already waiting for him to return. His mobile has chimed once inside his coat pocket, but Crowley hadn't answered it. He slowly walks back, grumpily looking up at the cloudy sky. 

Crowley is already half way back to his Bentley, when a storm breaks lose seemingly from out of nowhere. The sky darkens with heavy storm clouds, the wind freshens up into a strong gust that tears at Crowley’s long coat and hair. Litter from the streets is swept up, and people are struggling not to lose hold of their bags or scarfs.

“Ow!” Crowley lifts his hand to touch the spot where something hard and cold has hit him on the head. He looks down to see what it was, when the next thing hits him. His mouth opens in disbelieve, he tries to retreat closer to the building he is standing next to. Hail. And hail like he has never seen before. And that means something. This is not hale. These are ice rocks, bigger than table tennis balls. It’s terribly loud when they hit the pavement and cars and break into shards. People are now running and screaming, trying to hide. Crowley does, too. Hailstones are hitting him on the shoulders, the head, some of them hit his face and it hurts. He ducks his head and begins to run as best as he can. Heavy rain is mixing in with the hail, and that makes everything worse. People are beginning to squeeze themselves into any nearby shops. The street is slippery with ice and water, nobody pays attention to others, and a man runs into Crowley, hits him full in the back, and Crowley stumbles. 

“AH!” He tries to keep his balance - and fails. His centre of gravity has changed with the pregnancy, and all he can do is try not to fall on his belly. With a hard blow he lands on hands and knees, tearing his jeans and grazing his knees and palms. A woman runs past him and nearly steps onto one of his hands. Crowley flinches and hisses, he feels helpless without the power to miracle something. Another leg hits him in the side, and he cries out in fear for his unborn baby. 

“Oi! Are you all mad?!”  
Someone crouches down next to Crowley and puts a hand onto his shoulder.  
“I’ll help you. Come on.” Crowley looks up into the face a young woman, barely more than a teenager, with long blond hair, dark khol around her stunningly dark brown eyes. She helps him up and guides him to the side into the relative shelter of a house entrance. The hailrocks are already covering the ground, and Crowley can only stare up to the sky. This must be the next sign… There is no other explanation for such a phenomenon.

The young woman is shielding Crowley from the worst hail with her own body, not caring if the ice rocks hit her in the back or on the head.  
“Are you hurt?” she asks right now and looks at Crowley.  
It’s only now that Crowley realizes his hands and knees are in fact hurting. He looks at his palms and flinches. The young woman looks down, too.  
“Oh… Wait a second.” She reaches into her big handbag and produces a small bottle of water.  
“We should clean this as good as we can.”  
She looks over her shoulder. The hail is fading now, and it’s already mostly rain pouring down. The woman moves next to him.  
“Stretch out your hands for me, yes?” 

Crowley obeys and lets her pour some water over his hands to wash off most of the dirt. It burns, and he hisses.  
“I know. Sorry. But the more dirt we clean off the better.” Next thing she produces from her handbag is a pack of tissues. She gently wipes over Crowley’s palms and inspects them.  
“I think that’s okay. The abrasions seem to be clean. Only a little blood. But these always hurt the most.”  
She tries to wrap Crowley’s hands with the tissues, not very successfully, until Crowley stops her by taking one of her hands.  
“It’s fine. Thank you.”

“It’s not fine!” the young woman blurts out now and looks up into his eyes.  
“What morons! People are acting like crazy lately. I should call an ambulance. How far along are you?”  
“Eight months. But no ambulance. It’s not that bad.”  
“Are you out of your mind? I saw how hard you hit the ground. We don’t want you to go into early labour, right?”  
“I don’t need a doctor. I’m fine.”  
“Don’t act like an idiot, the doctors will be happy to help, trans or not. At least they should. Still can’t be sure.”

Crowley blinks behind his dark glasses. Oh. She’s come to the right conclusion very quickly and doesn’t seem to mind at all. He begins to smile. He likes her.  
“Don’t be so angry. It’s not their fault.”  
“But not yours, either. You didn’t choose to be trans.”  
“No. But I try to make the best of it.”  
Now she begins to smile, too.  
“I can see that.” She looks at his belly. “It’s lovely you’re going to be a parent. But.” She actually points a finger at him, and Crowley is doing his best to stay serious. Because she acts like a mother hen right now although she’s still so young.  
“But as a parent you should do the responsible thing and see a doctor.”  
“I will. But not now. Right now all I want to do is go home to my husband. My car is parked only a few streets away and it’s only a ten minute drive home.”  
“Then I’ll go with you to your car. Just in case.”  
“You really don’t have to.”  
“I really do!” 

Now Crowley laughs, though still a little shakily. “All right then. Do you have an umbrella? Doesn’t look like it will stop raining soon.”  
“No. Guess we’ll have to make it without one. But it’s no problem. I won’t melt away.”  
She links arms with him and smiles.  
“Let’s go, then. You shouldn’t walk around in this shitty weather.”

They walk mostly in silence. Crowley is glad about her presence. The people around them are still upset about the hail, which is slowly melting on the streets. Crowley feels the cold rain soak his coat and trickle from his collar down his back. It makes him shiver. Everything hurts and he is terribly cold when he has finally reached the Bentley. 

“That’s my car. Thank you for your help. Very much appreciated,” he says through gritted teeth. The girl is still supporting him and tries for a last time to change his mind.  
“Are you sure you can drive? You are deathly pale, and you are shivering. I don’t think you should get behind the wheel right now. Let me call an ambulance, take you to hospital. See if baby’s okay. And if you’re okay.”  
“No. I’m fine. I can drive. ‘m just still a little out of breath and… well.” Crowley is amazed by the genuine concern the teenager shows. He flashes her a smile, knowing fully well it’s not very convincing.  
She sighs. “Or shall I get in with you? So you don’t have to drive home on your own? If you need help or feel off…”  
“No, really. It’s okay. Don’t want to take up too much of your time. You’re a good person.”

The girls smiles. “We trans people got to be there for each other, don’t you think? There’s so many who don’t have any support at all, so we should at least support others like us.”  
Crowley blinks. He takes a little closer look and sees it now: this nice young woman is actually a nice young man.  
“I’m sorry, I haven’t noticed…” he stammers.  
The girls smiles. “Well, isn’t that the best compliment I got today? But again: I can come with you if you like. It’s no problem.”

Crowley is tempted to accept her offer and feels incredibly moved. But he shakes his head.  
“No, thank you. I can manage. Just need to sit down a moment before I drive off.” He takes a step back and reaches into his pocket for his keys. Then he extends a hand that is still shaking a little.  
“You help was the best thing to happen to me today. Would you… Would you like to tell me your name?”  
The girl carefully takes his hand, trying not to hurt him. “I was born Lennart. But I am Lucy now.”

The way she says this tells Crowley so much about her. Surely she must have gone through a lot even in this young age.  
“I am Anthony,” he says and smiles, “And I am glad I met you, Lucy. God bless you.” He doesn’t think about his last words until he has spoken them. But now that he has said them he feels how true they are. And with things getting worse every day Lucy might need every bit of good thoughts and blessing she can get…  
“Take care, Anthony. And all the best for you and your baby.” Lucy smiles one last time, before she turns and leaves. Crowley looks after her how she hurries through the rain that is still falling, though much less heavy than before. 

With a sigh he unlocks the car’s door and slumps heavily into the driver’s seat. He closes the door and murmurs an apology to the Bentley.  
“Sorry for soaking your seat. Would take care of it, but can’t at the moment. Will ask the angel to do it for me.”  
With that he starts the engine and drives off. 

The Bentley does not have a heating. She’s too old a model to have one. But when she senses her master freezing from cold and shock she immediately heats up. Crowley smiles and lets one of his thumbs caress the steering wheel.  
“You’re a very good car,” he murmurs, and the Bentley seems to purr in contentment, not caring about the wet seat. Her master will take care of it. It’s only a short ride home, and Crowley’s usual parking spot is - as always - miraculously free. Despite the Bentley’s best efforts to warm him up, Crowley still shivers. He wipes the wet hair out of his forehead before he gets out of the car and heads towards the bookshop’s entrance. 

Aziraphale is pacing the bookshop, worried for his husband’s well being. He has already tried to reach Crowley on his mobile, but the demon hasn’t answered. It’s been hours now since he has left for Tadfield. It’s unusual for Crowley not to answer Aziraphale’s calls. So Aziraphale turns around immediately when he hears the door opening and the little bells over it jingle. The sight of Crowley is taking his breath away, and he hurries towards him. 

“Darling! Dear Lord, what happened? Where have you been?”  
Crowley stops in the middle of the shop and sighs deeply. He wraps his arms around himself, looking miserable. Aziraphale is already right in front of him, cupping his cheeks in his hands.  
“You are ice cold! Sorry to say that, but you look horrible!”  
“Yeah, got caught up in this crazy storm outside.”  
“And you are hurt!” Aziraphale has now spotted the holes in Crowley’s jeans. Crowley shrugs, then lifts his hands for Aziraphale to see.  
“Goodness gracious! We have to take care of this. Is the baby alright?”  
“I’m relatively fine. Hope you can find out more about the baby. But they’re kicking and moving, so I hope it’s okay.”  
“Let’s get you warmed up. I’ll run you a bath and afterwards make you some tea and a good soup."

Aziraphale accompanies Crowley upstairs into their flat.  
“Take off your clothes, I’ll be right back.” He hurries to the bathroom. Crowley feels immensely tired. He lets his coat fall from his shoulders and toes off his boots. Even unbuttoning his shirt is arduous, and his hands are still shaking. Aziraphale returns with Crowley’s dressing gown. He helps Crowley out of his clothes and puts the dressing gown around his shoulders.  
“Oh my dear, why didn’t you call me or at least answer my call?”  
“Was a little occupied.”  
Aziraphale leads him into the bathroom. The tub is already miracled full. The scent of Crowley’s favorite bath bombs permeates the air.  
“There you go, Crowley. Get in.” Aziraphale helps him into the warm water. Crowley sighs in relief and immediately sinks deep into the bath, but flinches when his knees and palms come into touch with the water. 

Aziraphale is sitting down onto the rim of the tub and reaches for Crowley’s hands.  
“Let me see and make them better.”  
“In a minute. Look for the baby first,” Crowley begs. Aziraphale nods. He puts one hand onto Crowley’s belly and concentrates on him, moves his palm over the baby bump and relaxes a bit.  
“They seem to be fine, I think. Their heart is beating steadily, and I can feel they are not hurt.”  
Crowley sighs in relief. He would love to run his hands over his belly, too, but it still hurts. Aziraphale takes one of his hands, covers Crowley’s palm with his own.  
“You fell. What happened?” 

Crowley feels a tingling sensation in his hand. “I was knocked over by someone when this hailstorm began. Everyone was in a panic. Wasn’t fast enough.”  
Aziraphale heals Crowley’s other palm, then moves on to his knees. They are bruised and must be aching terribly.  
“But there was this girl. Lucy. She helped me up. Walked me to the Bentley. She even offered to come with me so I didn’t have to drive alone. She was really nice to me.”  
“I hope you thanked her properly. And I hope she gets the reward she deserves for helping you.”  
Crowley thinks back to the moment when he said goodbye to her.  
“I did. Gave her a _God bless you_ , even. Me! But… she touched something in me.”  
“I am glad she was there. Feeling better already, my darling?”  
Crowley nods. The pain in his hands and knees is gone and he is warming up quite nicely.  
“You enjoy your bath. I’ll go get you some tea.”

Aziraphale gives him a kiss and then leaves him alone. Crowley groans. He takes a deep breath and sinks completely underwater where he stays for a few moments. He could stay under water for as long as he wants, not having to breathe has benefits. But he has gotten so used to it that he comes up gasping for breath and wiping his hair out of his forehead. Then he cradles his baby bump in both hands.  
“Are you alright, baby? I’m sorry you got jostled so much today… It wasn’t my fault. Didn’t want to startle you.”  
Crowley feels tears sting in his eyes. What if he had gone into early labour? What if he had lost the baby? He would never forgive himself if something like this happened. He really should be more careful since he isn’t able to miracle anymore. But how can he be more careful when so much is at stake? And it seems he and Aziraphale are the only ones who can try something to stop it from happening. So he has to interfere, right?  
“I promise to take more care. But I can’t promise to never do this again… I want to hold you in my arms, little one. And if I have to take a little risk to achieve that…” He sighs deeply. This is all too fucking much for him right now. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift a little - waiting for Aziraphale to come back. 

“Darling?” Aziraphale’s gentle hand on his shoulder pulls him out of his relaxed state.  
“Hm… I’m alright, ‘m alright…”  
“Don’t fall asleep in the tub, my dear. Here’s some tea for you.”  
Crowley groans and sits a little more upright to take the mug from Aziraphale. The smell of a sweet herbal tea fills his nostrils. He takes a sip and sighs. Herbal tea is usually not his favourite, but it’s perfect for today. Aziraphale sits down on the closed toilet lid to keep a watchful eye on his husband. He lets Crowley finish his tea in silence and takes the empty mug from him. 

“Feeling better? Can I do something more for you?” asks Aziraphale. The Bentley comes to Crowley’s mind.  
“Yes. Please do me a favour and go look for the Bentley. The seat is soaked with water, I don’t want the leather to be ruined,” Crowley begs.  
Aziraphale nods. “I’ll fix it. But first let me get you to bed. Are you warm again?”  
“Yes, I’m fine.”  
“Give me your hand, I’ll help you.”  
Crowley’s cheeks heat when he allows Aziraphale to help him out of the tub. It’s still embarrassing that he has to rely on Aziraphale so much. The angel wraps him into a big fluffy towel and helps him dry himself off. He follows Crowley into the bedroom. He has already laid a warm pyjama laid out for him and now leaves him to take a look at the Bentley. 

When he comes back after a quick miracle, Crowley is already snuggled up in bed, but awake. Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate to sit down next to him. Crowley looks up at him, eyes so, so tired, lines of worry on his face. Aziraphale pushes a strand of hair out of his forehead.  
“Fixed the Bentley problem. How are you feeling?”  
“Sore.”  
“Still? Where does it hurt?” A crease forms between Aziraphale’s brows.  
“Everywhere. Inside and out and in my mind… I talked to Adam.”  
Aziraphale bends down to unlace his shoes. He has a feeling this conversation could last a little longer. He leans against the headboard, feet on the bed, and looks expectantly at Crowley.  
“Tell me, darling?”

Crowley sighs. What he said is true - everything hurts, especially his back, and some Braxton Hicks are bothering him. He shifts closer, so Aziraphale can run a hand through his hair - something Crowley absolutely loves.  
“He has grown up a lot. Not the little kid anymore. But… He’s slowly losing his powers. I think it’s his own free will to neglect his powers. He chose a life among humanity. A human doesn’t need the power to change the world. You told him once he was human incarnate. He’s becoming more and more human. He can’t help us. And Anathema knows what’s going on, too. She followed the signs.”  
Aziraphale stays silent and waits patiently for Crowley to continue. 

“Anathema said, she would love to help. But she can’t, either… I was already nearly home when I saw David on the street. I followed him to a church. He went in to pray. I waited for some time, but when he didn’t come out, I decided to go home. That’s when this damn hailstorm started.”  
“Why did you follow David?”  
“I still believe he has something to do with what’s happening.”  
Aziraphale sighs. “But how? He’s a human, how is he supposed to be able to influence what’s going on?”  
“I don’t know, Zira, and that’s what I have to find out.”  
“And how do you think you can accomplish that?”  
“I will see. Maybe I just have to follow him some more. See if he meets people. Things like that. I could sneak in his shop and try if I can still transform into a snake. I could hide somewhere and just listen and observe.”

“You can’t be serious! You’re pregnant! I don’t want you to transform! It’s too dangerous for the both of you!” Aziraphale is really shocked now.  
Now it’s Crowley who sighs. “Calm down, angel. I don’t think I’ll be able to. And even if I am, it always takes much more effort to transform back. Was a bad idea…”  
“Thank god there is some reason left in you.” He continues to play with Crowley’s hair, and he feels the demon relax more and more until he has fallen asleep. Aziraphale stays for a while longer until he can be sure Crowley has reached a deep state of slumber before he carefully gets up again and goes back down to the bookshop to continue his research.


	9. The truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, the story is now finished and the chapters are fixed! 
> 
> I would love to hear something from you - every kudo and comment makes me a very happy writer!

Crowley feels horrible the next morning. Yesterdays events have really exhausted him. Even a long nights sleep wasn’t able to fully restore his strength. Thankfully the baby has been quiet all night. But nevertheless he feels restless and still driven to do something. Aziraphale is down in the shop, Crowley is alone with his thoughts. So after a shower he quickly dresses and leaves the flat. He's determined to follow his plan to find out more about David and walks the few streets to his bookshop. 

The door is open, although it’s still early. Crowley enters and takes a look around. Everything is quiet.   
“Hello?” Crowley slowly walks through the small shop. Its shelves are stacked with books about art. There are used books among them, too, some safely hidden behind glass in locked display cases.  
In others are art prints and original old drawings. But there is nobody here. Crowley listens if he can hear something. But only an old clock on the wall is ticking away. Crowley hesitates. Maybe this is his only chance, certainly the best so far. He licks his lips, then takes his sunglasses off and blinks twice to adjust to the light. Then he walks over to where he knows is the little office behind the store. He calls again. 

“Hello? Anybody?” Still no answer. But he has no clue how much time he will have. So he opens the door to the back office. Empty boxes in the corners, a desk covered in paperwork, a laptop buried underneath them. Crowley’s gaze wanders over the collection of papers. Some seem to be receipts, invoices, orders, many unopened envelopes among the mass of paper. But when he begins to take a closer look and goes through the papers he finds some things that have no connection whatsoever to the rest. Old hand writings. Some antique books - prophecies, myths, religious texts. 

Crowley’s searching fingertips glide over something that stirs memories. He takes it and pulls it out. It’s kind of a letter, the paper delicate and yellowed, sealed with a signet. Crowley turns the letter in his fingers. The signet shows a symbol he doesn’t recognize, but the whole thing seems to be old. Very old. Crowley tries to peer inside, but he can’t see much, and he doesn’t want to break the seal. David would immediately know someone was snooping around. For a moment he thinks about stealing it. He could show it to Aziraphale. The angel has more knowledge about old papers and signets. Maybe Aziraphale can open it without doing any damage, and they can have a look what’s written in it. And he is more and more convinced: David is the most important figure in this. 

Reluctantly Crowley puts the letter back to where he took it from. Again he searches for some hints, but is still at a loss. He goes back into the shop and is just putting on his glasses again, when the door opens and David walks in, a big box in his hands.   
“Anthony! What a nice surprise. I haven’t expected to see you here.” He puts the box down and comes close, extends a hand. Crowley takes it after a second of hesitation.   
“Only a small visit out of curiosity. I’m only used to Ezra’s shop. Wanted to see how you’re doing with all these dusty books.”  
“You’re not much of reader, are you?” David smiles. He turns and walks towards the back office.  
“Do you want some tea? I have an electric kettle and some PG Tips. Nothing of that lovely delicious tea your husband has.”  
“No, thank you. Don’t bother.”  
“Do you mind if I make myself a cuppa? There is a little armchair, take a seat. Be right back.”

Crowley thinks for a moment. Maybe if he talks with David alone he can prise something out of him. But he doesn’t feel comfortable enough to sit down here, so he just waits for David to return.   
“Really no tea?” asks David from the back office.  
“No. Have you read all these books? I always wonder if a book seller has read every book in his shop.”   
Crowley walks along the shelves, ears perked up, attentive to everything around him.   
David laughs. “Oh, God, no. Has your husband?”  
“Ezra reads constantly. And I am fairly sure he has in fact read every book in his possession. So I just asked myself if you did, too. And then there’s these large shops like Waterstone’s. One can’t read everything in such a shop.”  
“Of course not. You would never find enough time to sell them _and_ read them. There are so many books published every day, you would do nothing but read for the rest of your life.” 

David returns with a mug of steaming tea and leans against a column in a corner of the shop.   
“What do you do to relax? Do you have a hobby?” he asks.   
“Erm… I like… taking care of my plants.”  
“Oh, you’re a gardener?” David smiles and takes a sip of his tea.   
“Not really. I don’t have a garden, just… plants.”  
“It’s never too late, they say, right? Maybe one day you can have a garden.”  
Why is there suddenly this image of Eden in his mind? Crowley blinks behind his glasses.   
“Yeah, maybe. You told us about some of your travels. Sounded like you have done nothing more but traveling.”  
“I have been abroad for a very long time, yes. It sounds like much fun, but it can be quite straining to alway be out and about with no place to come back to.”  
“So you decided London would be the right place. I never asked… where are you from?”

David looks into his tea mug. “I don’t think about this place much. The past is long gone. The only thing that counts is the here and now.”  
“I wouldn’t say that. Your past defines you. Everything you experienced. Your mistakes. Your successes.”  
David looks at him, again with this strange intensity. “I am sure you experienced a lot on your journey in life, your journey from woman to man.”  
“I have dealt with many things in my life. Being who I always wanted to be is no easy road.”  
“I can imagine. You’re very lucky to have someone at your side. Ezra looks at you like you’re his sun, moon and stars. There are stars in his eyes when ever he looks at you. Do you like stars, Anthony?”   
Crowley begins to feel more and more uneasy. There they are again: these strange remarks. And all of a sudden Crowley has enough. He is tired of this bullshit of pretending. And so he asks: “What do you want from us?” He tries to sound a little more intimidating than he actually feels. 

David frowns with a smile.   
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean, David, that you are much too interested in a boring bookseller and his pregnant transman husband. Your interest in religion and your knowledge about some things make me ask myself if you really are an as boring bookseller as my husband. Do you think I’m stupid? You’re here for a reason. What have you got to do with the strange things happening?”  
“Strange things?” David still plays innocent. “Oh, you mean the bloody river and the dead fish?”  
“And the return of the plague and the damned out of control weather. Who the fuck are you?!” he demands to know, his voice louder now. And suddenly David’s expression changes. He smiles an apologetic smile.   
“What do you think I am? Can’t you take a guess?”

Crowley feels an ice cold shiver run down his spine. He’s glad his eyes are hidden behind his glasses, while he stares at David, unblinking. He still thinks about his answer, when David sighs and lowers his gaze to the floor.   
“I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want any of this. But if you know what these occurrences mean, you might guess what I am.”  
There is a tight knot forming in Crowley’s stomach. “You must be mad. Do you know what you’re saying?”  
“I am as mad as you, demon. And I know a demon when I see one. I’ve seen many of your kind. And angels, too. I was aware I couldn’t fool you forever.”

Crowley slowly moves from where he had been standing next to one of the shelves into the open space of the book shop.   
“I have no choice, Crowley. I am God’s tool. I can only do what She tells me to do. She condemned me to this fate. I didn’t choose it, but I deserve it.”  
“Who are you?” whispers Crowley, his lips feel numb. He doesn’t _want_ to know, but he _has_ to know.   
“Not only do I know a demon, when I see one. But I already know you. We’ve met long ago, Crowley. You don’t recognize this vessel. But we’ve met. I am Cartaphilus.”

Crowley shakes his head. That is impossible. “No. You can’t be. I’ve seen this man. I know what he did. I was there!”   
“Yes, you were there. As were hundreds of other people, watching Jesus on his way to his death. And nobody did anything to help him. I didn’t even give him some water and rest when he asked for it.” David now puts his tea mug away on a small side table. 

Crowley stares at David with wide eyes. Oh, he remembers… He himself had shown Jesus the kingdoms of the world. After that he had gotten another job and left the area for a few years. When he got back he had no clue why this young Rabbi was sentenced to death, but he had followed the masses. At one point the convicts had been allowed a few minutes rest in front of someone’s house. Jesus had begged for some water. But the owner of the house had plainly refused and wanted them to go on. Crowley hadn’t been close enough to hear the words Jesus had then said to the man. He had learned them later, when Aziraphale told him about it. And they are the words David repeats now…

“ _I will stand and rest, but you will have to walk on_. That’s what Jesus said to me that day. And She made his words true. I’ve been wandering this earth for more than 2.000 years now. I live and age like any other man. But when it’s my time to die, I return - in a different vessel, again 30 years of age, and I have to live a lifetime again. And again. And again. I’ve been everywhere in the past 2 millennia. I’ve been black, I’ve been white, I’ve been Asian, I’ve even been an Aborigine. I have lived as a jew, a christian, a buddhist and a muslim, I’ve been tall, I’ve been fat, I’ve been sick and I have loved. And always lost what I loved. And I am tired of it, Crowley. I am so tired. But there is nothing I can do about it. She hasn’t forgiven me. And neither can I forgive myself. She made me follow Her orders. And I am doing just that. Nothing more.”

Crowley listens to David’s words and swallows against a lump in his throat. If this is true then what chance will they have against God’s own orders?   
“But… there must be something. Is there no way to avoid this? She must have told you more about this!”  
“You can only stop this if the chain of events is broken.”  
A flicker of hope makes Crowley’s heart leap. “So there _is_ hope! Aziraphale was right! He said the same!”   
“Do you really think you can interfere with Her plans? I tried it so often, Crowley, but She wouldn’t let me.”  
“But that means we _can_ do something!”  
“You can’t.”  
“What about this letter I found in your office, hm?” Getting more confident with every heartbeat Crowley walks past David back into his little back office. His fingers easily find the letter he has looked at before. 

“Don’t.” David appears behind him, his face stern, his posture stiff.   
“Oh, so this letter is part of this damn scenario, is it? What if I take a look just now?”   
“Don’t do this! If you break the signet, you set the next sign in motion!”  
“What if I take that thing and burn it?”  
“It won’t burn! Don’t you ever listen to what others tell you?! It will only result in breaking the seal, and you have changed nothing!”  
Crowley stares at him. He is struggling to believe that this man is in fact Cartaphilus. For all he knows, he could be just some delusional madman, believing to be someone he isn’t. 

David smiles at him. “I know what you’re thinking right now. If I am telling the truth or if I am just crazy. I did go crazy for some time. You tend to when you are brought back to life again and again. When you’re forced to live on. I tried to kill myself. I always came back. I tried to resist Her. It’s impossible. She condemned me for what I did, and I deserve it.”  
“But earth doesn’t deserve to be destroyed! _Humanity_ doesn’t deserve it! They are stupid sometimes, yes. But they don’t deserve to die!”  
“That’s not for us to decide.” David comes closer now and takes the letter from Crowley’s hand.   
“You are a strange demon… your goal should always have been to end all this. To win the final war. To triumph over Heaven’s legions. To end what Lucifer has started. Why are you so different?”

Crowley swallows. He doesn’t know, why. He has asked himself the same question over and over again. David smiles.   
“I’ll tell you what I think. You always doubted. You always asked, you never took thinks for granted. And you love. A demon isn’t suppose to love. But maybe that’s still part of what you once were before you fell.”  
“I sauntered vaguely downwards,” growls Crowley.   
“No. You fell. We both now that.”   
Although Crowley is still wearing his glasses, it seems as if David is looking right into his eyes. And maybe he is. 

David takes a step back now and puts the letter into an inside pocket of his jacket.   
“I could kill you,” says Crowley. And for the first time in his life he really wants to kill a human. He feels the movement of his child inside his body as if it wants to tell him no.   
David scoffs. “You can try, of course. Go ahead. I would die. Like so many times before. But I would also come back in a different vessel, and you would have no chance to know me. Is that what you want? And what would your angel say when he learns you killed me? Hm?”  
Crowley has to admit to himself he is caught in a predicament. He stays silent.   
“That’s what I thought. Well, Crowley… I have somewhere to be. Guess we won’t see each other for a while.”  
“What about your shop?” asks Crowley lamely. He knows the shop was only a disguise. David doesn’t really care about it.   
“Just pull the door close when you leave.” David takes his coat from a rack and leaves. 

Crowley stares after him. Should he have stopped him? Dragged him to Aziraphale’s shop? Forced him to tell Aziraphale himself? Will the angel believe him when he tells him David is in fact Cartaphilus? Does it even matter? If David said the truth, then maybe this is the ineffable plan after all… After a few more moments Crowley goes back into the back office and searches the table again, this time not caring if he makes a mess. But he doesn’t find any more letters that would match the one he has found and David has taken with him. He slams his fist onto the table top in frustration. He should come back with Aziraphale. They should search the shop again together. And maybe David’s flat. There is still a chance to find something. And there is one other thing that comes to Crowley’s mind. He dreads the consequences, but… he is desperate enough now to do something dangerous. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. Time to be brave. He leaves David’s shop and goes back to fetch his car.


	10. Head offices

Crowley has been sitting in the Bentley for half an hour now. He ponders. He thinks. He decides. He hesitates. He decides differently. He chews his lip and drums his fingers on the steering wheel of his car. Every few minutes he looks at the main entrance to head office. He doesn’t want to do this. And he doesn’t know if he is making a terrible mistake if he really does it. But he has to try, hasn’t he? He has to try everything after what he has learned today. But it feels horrible - this thought of bringing his unborn child into Hell. Hell hasn’t done anything to them since the body swap. Which is good. He can’t be sure they still won’t if he shows up down there, pregnant with an angel’s baby… At one point the tension snaps and makes him move. He flings himself out of the car and strides towards the door. He has to do this. He has no choice. 

The hall with the escalators is well known to him. Like almost always it is empty. Crowley walks towards the escalators. The right one is the one that goes up like any escalator - until it leaves this realm to ascend to Heaven. The left one seems to go up, too - but Crowley knows that once he has reached a certain point on his way, he will find himself on his way downstairs. He steps onto the escalator. It always feels strange to sink into this other realm. Crowley takes a deep breath before he reaches the point where he will sink downwards. One of his hands balls into a fist while the other is spread over his baby bump. His child is feeling his tension and is turning and moving inside him. It gets darker while the escalator takes Crowley deep down. A well known tingling sensation runs through him, when the space around him shifts from human reality to the reality of Hell.

And the reality of Hell has changed massively. Hell has always been bordering on “boring your brains out”. The majority of demons with no occupation has always slowly wandered down the halls and corridors in a dumb mass, occasionally stopping to lick the walls (although head office has put up posters and signs, but many demons are stupid and some don’t even have eyes to read other things than emotions). 

Crowley was used to shoving his way through the dumb mass of bodies to his designated destination. Now the hallways and corridors, still dimly lit, still damp and ugly and reeking of sulphur, are buzzing with movement. The amount of demons is significantly lower, and everyone seems to be in a hurry - though why and where to is a mystery to Crowley. He gets shoved and bumped into while he tries to make sense of the new development. He protectively pulls his coat closer around himself and steps into some random demon’s way. 

“Where do I find Lord Beelzebub?”  
“Who wants to know?” the demon hisses back. He (or she?) is staring at him, eyes all black, scales and pustules covering their face, their damp hair matted and emitting the very unpleasant smell of rotten flesh.  
“Not your business. Where is them?”  
“In their office, I s’pose. But they can’t be disturbed. They will be busy ’n in a meeting with the team.”  
Crowley decides not to ask more about this team. He will surely find out. He just walks past the demon and makes his well known way to Beelzebub’s office.

The door is closed, but that doesn’t stop Crowley. He coves his hand with his sleeve (better save than sorry. He has always hated how messy Hell is. That’s why his flats have always been meticulously clean) before he turns the filthy, sticky door knob and opens the door. Four demons turn around and glare at the intruder - Beelzebub and Hastur among them. The other two Crowley has never seen before, but that’s nothing to worry about. He lifts his chin.  
“Lord Beelzebub - I need a moment of your time.”

Beelzebub crosses their arms over their chest and looks Crowley up and down. Their gaze lingers on Crowley’s pregnant belly, barely hidden beneath the long black cardigan and the coat. Their face shows clearly what they’re thinking. The flies that accompany the demon prince where ever they go, begin to circle quicker around their head and buzz angrily.  
“Look who’s here again - the traitor Crowley! And we thought you wouldn’t want anything more to do with uzz. What do you want?” Beelzebub snaps. 

“What’s going on? Why is everybody so upset? I’ve never seen the nine circles of Hell his busy.”  
Crowley tries to play it cool. But Beelzebub is having nothing of it.  
“We’re evacuating. The world izz going to end without the promised war. Nobody needed to fight, so we’re leaving. The first legionzz have already left. But don’t get your hopezz up, Crowley. We won’t take you with us. You chose earth, you zztay on earth!” Beelzebub sneers. 

“You’re leaving? Where a you going with ten million demons?” Crowley scoffs.  
“We have several destinations, don’t worry.” Then Beelzebub looks pointedly at Crowley’s belly.  
“Bad time to get yourself knocked up by an angel. Go and see if the angel’s lot want to put up with a bazztard demon-angel baby.”  
Crowley swallows. Of course Hell knows. He shouldn’t be surprised. And if Hell knows, then Heaven will, too. There are indeed connections between both head quarters. 

“So you have nothing to do with any of this?” Crowley asks against his better judgement. Beelzebub laughs an ugly laugh that sounds more like retching. Hastur in the far corner smiles a knife-like smile. He is still suspicious towards Crowley. Seeing his companion Ligur die through holy water and Crowley then bathing in it has impressed him more than he would ever admit. Who knows what else this demon has up his sleeve…  
“We?” asks Beelzebub now. They begin to scoop up part of the paperwork from a big clattered table and shove them into the hands of one of the other demons.  
“Zzertainly not. These are revelations and signs we never wanted to see. We wouldn’t have, hadn’t you and your _principality_ ”, they nearly choke on that word, “not ruined the Great Plan!” Beelzebub yells and glares at Crowley now, their eyes glowing in a strange mixture of black and red. Crowley tries not to show any sign of emotion. 

“It was never our intention for something like this to happen,” Crowley says.  
“You know what? I don’t care! Now get out of here, traitor, before I forget myzzelf and call for all the remaining hellhounds that we’ve got! They haven’t eaten in ages, and they would love to rip you apart pound by pound!”  
Crowley backs away. “This can’t be the end. It just can’t!”  
“Why, just because you carry this angel’s pup? I’ve got newzz for you! Nobody cares about this! Leave!” 

And then Beelzebub turns to collect some more of their papers. Hastur grins at Crowley: a dirty, nerve wracking grimace full of hatred and disgust.  
“Azeel - send him back up!” he yells.  
One of the demons walks towards him. “You heard the duke.”  
Crowley flinches, when the demon grabs his arm. Azeel shoves him out of Beelzebub’s office and then drags him along the corridors back to where Crowley has come from. Crowley feels numb and cold inside and mechanically puts one foot in front of the other. Every few meters someone bumps into him, but he barely registers. After what feels like an eternity Azeel gives Crowley a push.  
“Up with you, you stupid bastard. Have a nice doomsday!” 

Crowley spins around and bares his teeth, sharpened into fangs. He has said these exact words to Aziraphale only a few years ago. To hear them here and now makes him want to scream and tear this whole damn place down. Azeel only smiles at him. He’s tall and slender, sleek black hair and blood red eyes. “We will enjoy everything from a safe distance. You won’t be so lucky, I s’ppose.”  
Crowley grinds his teeth. But there’s nothing he can do. He steps onto the escalator, turns and looks down at the grinning Azeel while the escalator takes him back upstairs. 

Once back in the entrance hall Crowley feels horrible. His clothes reek, and he feels filthy. He leans against a wall for support and takes some deep, measured breaths. His limbs are shaking, his knees are weak. He has to sit down for a moment and slowly sinks down to the floor, his back against the wall. He closes his eyes, trying to calm down. What now? He hadn’t really hoped to find help down there, but _some_ hope would have been nice. So Hell is evacuating. But what about Heaven? Shouldn’t Heaven have an interest in helping the population on earth? Crowley loathes the thought that comes to his mind. But if this is what needs to be done, then he is more than willing to try. 

Crowley stays on the floor for a few minutes longer until he has worked up enough willpower to push himself up to his feet again and slowly walks over to the other escalator. He watches the moving escalator for far longer than he should. He knows this is a much worse idea than showing up in Hell. But he has to try, hasn’t he? This time he is not dragged up by some angry archangels. So he takes a deliberate step onto the escalator and bites his lip. How will they react to a demon knocking on Heaven’s door? He would smile wasn’t the whole situation so dramatic. The ride upwards is even longer than the ride downstairs. Crowley feels the changing of reality, it tingles. He is glad he knows that being in Heaven wouldn’t harm him. He has been up here for Aziraphale’s trial, and it has done nothing to him. Strange enough, but that proves only one thing: that the head offices of Heaven and Hell are still only that: head offices. Only antechambers. Crowley has no idea how it would feel to actually be back in Heaven. If he would just burn out or explode. And he has no wish to find out. 

He has reached the top of the escalator and steps onto the white floor, his black boots a stark contrast to the shining floor tiles. He remembers the way and walks on until he reaches the real entrance to Heaven’s head office. There is in fact no Heaven’s door or a gate. But an angel is keeping guard, in full white battle attire, stepping into Crowley’s way.  
“Stop! What in the name of the Lord are you doing here?! Get back to where you belong!” the angel soldier yells. Crowley decides to shoulder on and try his best to look as intimidating as possible - pregnant or not. He feels his fangs grow out a little and his fingernails form into talons. 

“I am here for the archangel Gabriel. Tell him the demon Crowley is here to see him. And I’m not leaving until I have seen him,” he snarls, baring his fangs.  
“I am not afraid of you, foul fiend!”  
Crowley, knowing very well that he is not able to miracle anything or to smite the angel, has not many options. But the angel soldier doesn’t know that. Showing part of his demonic self is just like letting a reign loose. He doesn’t need a miracle to do that. But he can’t show any vulnerability now, and so he lets go a little more. Scales are beginning to show on his face, and he takes off his glasses with a practiced move to glare at the angel with his all golden eyes. 

Just when he - against his better knowledge - considers attacking the angel, just to get arrested and be brought to Gabriel, the archangel Michael appears from around a corner. She freezes when she sees Crowley in this state, but pulls herself together again very quickly. She steps closer, but stays away far enough not to be a threat to the very obviously extremely upset demon.

“What do you want? Go back to your traitor boyfriend, demon!”  
“I have to see Gabriel.”  
Michael scoffs. “You must have lost your mind. Gabriel won’t see you even if you brought a battalion of other demons up here. But I suppose you’re in no position to call for any demonic help. And even if you were, I know for sure that Hell has far more important things to do right now. Just like us. None of us wants to have anything to do with you or this traitorous angel of yours.” 

Michael looks at him like he is some insect creeping out from under a stone. The disgust on her face is unmistakable.  
“An abomination. That’s what you’re carrying. No wonder the end of the world is near when an angel and a demon sin together. We should have known and killed this useless pathetic excuse of an angel long ago. Losing his flaming sword was only just the beginning in a series of failures. And falling for you was the greatest of them all. You repel me. Both of you.”

“Michael!” The harsh shout makes both angels and Crowley turn towards the archangel Gabriel, who is now on his way to them.  
“Let’s see who has come for a little visit. Crowley, the demon traitor! I just received a friendly call from downstairs. You’ve already shown up on your former doorstep. Let me guess, they don’t want you down there anymore, right? Well, I’ve got some news for you: we neither. Take your bastard pup and -“  
“Die already?” hisses Crowley. Oh, he hasn’t forgotten the hurtful words, the hateful look and the hellfire he stepped into. And the smiling, cheerful archangel fucking Gabriel. How Crowley longs to sink his talons into his neck and rip the revolting smile from his face - together with all the skin and muscle he can reach… A kick inside his belly makes him swallow. He can’t do that. He can’t risk his child’s life. 

“So you’re doing what - the same as Hell? Just piss off and leave the whole planet and all seven billion people to die? What kind of angels are you?! Aren’t you supposed to protect the world? You’re worse than my lot and as pathetic and anxious as them!”  
“You should watch your mouth! You avoided Armageddon, did you not?”  
“This is not our fault!” yells Crowley, tears springing to his eyes. He wills them away with all his might. 

“We only do the reasonable thing and leave this damn planet before it tears itself to pieces! And you should do the same! But a little warning.” Gabriel’s eyes are like ice cold lilac stones, brimming with hatred and fury.  
“You better run as fast and as far as you can. Because if we find you, demon, then ten million pissed off angels and ten million pissed off demons will want revenge. And this time you won’t get any mercy. Pregnant or not.”

With that he turns and walks away, snapping his fingers for Michael to follow him. “Come! We have work to do!”  
Michael shoots him a last look full of hatred and disgust before she hurries after Gabriel. Crowley swallows hard. What will Aziraphale say when he tells him?

The angel warrior actually draws his sword now and widens his stance.  
“You heard the archangel. Leave, or I’ll make you.”  
Crowley hisses at him, but slowly backs away.  
“Cowards. All of you. The whole lot. I am glad Aziraphale no longer belongs to you.”  
The angel pulls a face. “Traitors have no place in Heaven. Away with you!”  
Still not showing what inner turmoil Crowley is in right now, he straightens his back. “Good luck for your escape. You will need it…”  
Then he turns and leaves. 

On his way down the escalator he tries to work up enough willpower to make his fangs, talons ans scales disappear again and somehow manages, while he holds onto the handrail to keep himself upright. These two visits have exhausted him completely. Once at the end of the escalator he stumbles off and steadies himself with one hand on the wall. He takes deep breaths, knowing if he sits down on the floor again it will be far more difficult to get up again. The comfortable seat of his Bentley is a far better option now. Slowly he makes his way outside, holding onto walls and the occasional lamp post until he has reached his car. He groans, when he finally sits down and leans his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes. He’s exhausted. He could fall asleep any minute if he would allow himself. But he can’t. His heart aches and he misses Aziraphale - his comfort, his warmth, his presence, his embrace. And who knows, maybe they only have weeks left on earth, days even, before everything ends… That’s not how he had imagined the rest of his life - especially not this short. He starts the engine and drives home.


	11. The last martyr

Aziraphale looks up from his computer when Crowley enters the shop, his steps heavy. But that’s not what immediately worries Aziraphale. It’s the devastated look on Crowley’s face. He is just taking off his sunglasses and then rubs his face with both hands, shoulders slumped, looking more exhausted than ever before. He shrugs off his coat and just lets it fall to the floor. 

“Darling! I have been worrying about you - what happened?” Aziraphale hurries to his side and Crowley immediately flings both arms around Aziraphale and clings onto him for dear life.  
“Good Lord, you smell like… Where have you been? Come, sit. You’re shaking.”  
Aziraphale drags him towards the sofa and sits them both down. A snap of his fingers closes the bookshop for the day, before Aziraphale gathers the demon in his arms and tries to soothe him. 

“Shush… I’m here. It’s gonna be alright. You’re with me now. Everything’s fine…” Aziraphale rubs circles onto Crowley’s back and waits for him to calm down.  
Eventually Crowley whispers: “Nothing is fine. We fucked up. We totally fucked up. It’s all our fault. We were so stupid… so proud of ourselves… there is nothing we can do…”  
“What? What are you talking about?”  
Crowley retreats from Aziraphale’s embrace, wipes his eyes and avoids his gaze. He knows very well, Aziraphale won’t like what he has done today. 

“I paid a little visit to Hell and then Heaven. Saw Beelzebub and Gabriel. And they both said it was our fault. We avoided Armageddon. If we hadn’t avoided the war between them, nothing of this would have happened.”  
Aziraphale is silent for a moment, before he asks: “You did that all alone without me? Crowley! What if they had done something to you? They could have discorporated you! And our baby!”  
“I know. Was stupid. But I had to try!”  
“It _was_ stupid! What were you even thinking?”  
“I was thinking I had to bloody _do_ something!” Crowley snaps now and glares at Aziraphale. “Someone had to!”  
“So what you’re saying is you think I just lean back and do nothing?”  
“No, not what I said. Not what I meant. It’s just… I can’t just sit here and wait it out! I can’t! Not with this baby inside me we’ve been waiting for for the last months!”  
“But this can’t be our fault! Why would it be our fault? Yes, we avoided the war. But this war has nothing to do with what’s happening right now! Humanity has made great mistakes, and this is their punishment.”  
“Punishment. Punishment?! Why doesn’t She drown everybody again? Or just ends it with a thought? Why this blasted, damned, fucking countdown of signs?! If there are no more souls left, why all this effort? And do you know who your precious David really is? I’ll tell you, angel: He is no bookseller. His name isn’t David. He fooled us. All the time he knew who we are, what we are!”

Aziraphale goes pale. “What? What do you mean, he knows who we are?”  
“He came here with a purpose, Aziraphale, and he is just Her instrument! He’s carrying out the Almighty’s orders! You want to know his name? You’ve met him before! Cartaphilus! He was the one condemned to walk the earth for the rest of time! And now he’s doing what She tells him to! I found a letter in his office. He took it from me and said he had to be somewhere. And then he just left.”

“He… Cartaphilus? But that’s…” Aziraphale doesn’t know what to say. He tries to process this information, but it’s all a little too much.  
“That’s impossible! Why would… that would mean…”  
“He is only doing what She told him to. It’s him bringing the signs. I know this letter he took with him has something to do with it. There was a signet on it, a signet I didn’t know.”  
“Can you describe it to me?”  
Crowley furrows his brow. Can he? He tries to concentrate. “The letter was old, yellowed. Sealed with something… it was not sealing wax. More like clay. It felt brittle. And there was a symbol… a flame. In a circle. I have never seen something like it.”  
“The world burning…” breathes Aziraphale.  
“What do you think where he’s gone?”  
“I have no idea…”

They stay silent for a moment, both lost to their own thoughts. Crowley is covering his face with his hands. He is so fucking tired, but how can he sleep now? The end of the world is near!  
Until Aziraphale says: “I can’t believe there is nothing more left to do. If there was no hope for earth, if her patience had ended, then She would just end it! You just said so yourself! Don’t you understand?” Aziraphale seems to get more and more excited by his own thoughts while he speaks.  
Crowley rubs over his face one last time, then lets his hands fall onto his belly. It’s only a few weeks until their baby is supposed to be born. He had so looked forward to this day, now he dreads it at the same time. Nothing of this is right…  
“What?” he asks. Aziraphale takes his hands.  
“Yes, She is trying us. But there is still hope! If there wasn’t, then why this countdown? We have to try to find this last martyr! I will find him, and we will do everything in our might to save him! We will break the chain! Everything will be alright!” Aziraphale is practically beaming with excitement. 

“You go upstairs and sleep, love. You said he left? Then I will go over to his shop, take a look at the things you told me about. And go to his flat and search it.”  
“You want to break into his flat? Not without me!” protests Crowley.  
“Oh yes, without you! You got yourself into so much danger today, I won’t let anything like that happen again. I’m going alone. I will continue my search. We will stop this. Earth won’t be destroyed. Don’t give up hope, my darling!” Aziraphale presses a kiss to Crowley’s lips, and the demon watches Aziraphale jump to his feet.

Crowley feels a flicker of hope. Maybe Aziraphale is right. They have to try harder. And he would love to help, but he can barely keep his eyes open.  
“You sure, angel? I can help.”  
“No, my love. You get some sleep. I need you rested and well when I get back. Just go to bed for now.”  
Crowley still hesitates, but in the end can’t resist any longer. He is dead tired. With a deep sigh he gets up.  
“But you wake me, should you need me, yeah? And please take care.”  
He goes over to Aziraphale and hugs him tight.  
“I can’t lose you, angel. Please be careful. Please.”  
“I’m a principality. He won’t harm me. He may be immortal, but he is just a man. I can handle him should he be in his flat.”  
“I know you can. But I can still worry.”  
“Don’t, my love.” Aziraphale kisses him and flashes him a smile. “Now go to sleep. You have to rest. Don’t worry about me.” Then he lets go off Crowley and takes his coat and scarf. He leaves the bookshop, and Crowley can only stare after him for a moment. He just hopes Aziraphale is right and will be fine… 

Groaning Crowley leaves the shop and climbs the stairs up to their flat. Once he has reached their bedroom he toes off his boots, shimmies out of his jeans and puts on some track bottoms before he lies down. He stuffs a pillow beneath his belly to support it and closes his eyes. He’s asleep within the minute. 

First stop on Aziraphale's way is David’s shop. The door is only pulled closed, but not locked. Easy to open even without a miracle. The shop is empty. Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate. He spends the next two hours in the back office of David’s shop, sorting through the contents of his desk. He finds some copies of texts he has already found himself, and that makes him uneasy. He should have listened to Crowley. The demon had been right all along. But Aziraphale doesn’t find any more letters with signets on it. At least not here. So he decides to try his luck at David’s flat. 

Aziraphale takes a cab to Hoxton. When he arrives at David’s apartment building he presses a few bell buttons and someone lets him in. He takes the lift to the forth floor and knocks at David’s door. Better save than sorry. But nobody answers the door, and a quick miracle opens it for Aziraphale. Since the flat is so small, it’s obvious after a quick look that David isn’t here. Aziraphale goes to work. He walks over to the cluttered desk and begins to search.

A few hours later Aziraphale still hasn’t found any more information. That’s frustrating, but he had silently feared he wouldn’t find more. At some point he decides to go back home since there is nothing he can gain from here. Back at his book shop he considers going up to the flat to look what Crowley is doing. But he hopes he is still sleeping, and he doesn’t want to wake him. So he busies himself with his research for the last martyr again. There are in fact many candidates in different countries who could be the last martyr. Most of them are imprisoned, waiting for their trials. One of the most promising candidates is a young man in a prison in Texas. He’s mentally disabled and has killed his parents - brother and sister, because they had lived in sin and claims that he had only done God’s will. He has already had his trial and was in fact sentenced to death. His lawyer has already appealed on points of law to prevent him from being executed. But the young man still states he has done nothing wrong and is prepared to die for his believes. 

But there are also others who are likely to meet the criteria. It’s not easy to tell which of the men and women is the last martyr. And Aziraphale has no idea how to find out. He takes a well earned break with a cup of tea and some shortbread and would very much like to have a glass of Scotch, but decides against it. He is at a loss what to do. He could of course fly over to Texas or one of the other cities where he suspects the last martyr could be. But will he find the right one? How is he supposed to accomplish this? But then he thinks about Crowley and the baby he is carrying, and he feels ashamed. Of course he should try everything in his might to find out. And if that means leaving Crowley for some time… well, Crowley won’t stop him. He knows what’s at stake. With a deep sigh Aziraphale opens a new tab in his browser to book the next flight to Dallas, Texas. 

Crowley doesn’t object to Aziraphale’s plans. On the contrary. He suggests to accompany him, but Aziraphale refuses. No airline would take him anyway, heavily pregnant as he is. And Aziraphale doesn’t want him to risk anything. So Crowley only drives Aziraphale to Heathrow the next afternoon. They promise each other to be careful, and Crowley stays at the airport and watches the plane take off, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

They talk on the phone every day. Aziraphale meets the solicitor of Jimmy Szaragosa, the young man awaiting his death sentence. They talk about Jimmy’s case for hours. Aziraphale is tempted to use a miracle to free the young man, but is reluctant to really do it. It’s not as if Heaven would pay attention anymore. They are occupied with other things, anyway. And he is sorry for Jimmy and hates the fact that Texas still has a death sentence. Surely it must have been hard for Jimmy to learn that his parents were in fact brother and sister. But is that really a reason to kill them? From what Aziraphale has learnt from Jimmy’s solicitor, the parents grew up as adopted children in different families - which had been kept a secret to them. It hadn’t been their fault, they hadn’t decided to fall in love. It had just happened. Only when Jimmy’s mother got pregnant and they decided to marry they found out the truth in the papers they had to prepare for their marriage - that they were in fact brother and sister. 

The truth had been almost too hard on them. They had had a rough time, and had in fact tried to separate - but the love they felt for each other had been too deep. This was something that touched Aziraphale deep in his very core. He was in love with a demon - his hereditary enemy. And no matter how long it had taken them to confess their feelings, Aziraphale had never regretted a single second of it once they had kissed for the first time. So who was he to judge them? 

Jimmy’s parents had moved to a different state, never married, and when after Jimmy’s birth it had been clear that he was mentally disabled, they had doted their whole life to support him and help him the best they could. Everything went well. Jimmy was sent to a catholic school, known for their social projects and support for children with special needs. Religion was, of course, always a part of the class schedule, and soon Jimmy was a frequent guest at the service at the local catholic church. It was by accident that he learned about his parents being siblings. That’s when everything when downhill and in the end Jimmy, who thought to do the right thing, had thought himself on a mission from God - and had killed his parents. 

Aziraphale talks to Crowley about the case. Tells him about his doubts and concerns. Crowley can’t do much to help Aziraphale decide if Jimmy Szaragosa really is the last martyr. How could he from afar? But he encourages Aziraphale not to act too quickly and maybe investigate a little further. It’s another week until Aziraphale’s mobile chimes at six early in the morning with the ringtone Crowley had installed for him when he had given him this modern device about two years ago. Aziraphale, who of course hadn’t been asleep, answers the call immediately.

“Darling, good morning.” Aziraphale smiles, always glad to hear Crowley’s voice.  
“Did you watch the news?”  
“The news? No, why?”  
“I’m not sure if it’s already on the news in the US, but it’s all over the telly here.”  
Aziraphale is already reaching for the tv remote and switches to some news channel.  
“What do you mean, Crowley?”  
He hears the demon snarl at the other end of the line. “Sure there will be a news flash at the hour. There was a shooting in Ireland.”  
“A shooting? Oh, wait - there it is.” Aziraphale turns up the volume. He watches the hourly news flash.

An attack on a catholic church in Ireland. During a mess an armed man has stormed into the church and threatened to shoot the people in the church. The priest had tried to talk the obviously confused and agitated man out of it while the altar servers tried to herd the members of the parish out of harms way. The priest had almost succeeded. The man had started weeping, but then out of the blue he had lifted his gun and shot the priest in the head. The assassin had then turned his weapon against himself and had committed suicide. 

The news switch to the next topic. Aziraphale sighs.  
“We can’t know this is it, Crowley.”  
“No? Didn’t you see him?”  
“See whom?”  
“David, angel! David was there!”  
“It’s was only a short film, my dear, they didn’t show much footage. There was no sign of David!”  
“Wait. I’ll send you something.”  
Aziraphale waits for a moment, until the mobile chirps. Of course Aziraphale accidentally ends the phone call when he tries to look at the link Crowley has just sent him. He watches with concern and nearly misses him. He re-watches the footage. 

The police in the UK has already found out more about the man who shot the priest. It is in fact a tragic story. The man had lost his wife and daughter in a car accident. The mother had died on the scene. The daughter had lived for another few days until she, too, had died. The man had been deeply religious, but this tragic accident had changed his whole life. As it had turned out the man had been a member of the parish and the priest had tried to help him in his misery. Unsuccessfully. The man had lost all his faith and instead developed a deep contempt towards everyone who still believed. Where he has gotten the gun is still part of the investigation. 

While the information is delivered to the audience, there is more to see. Some people have filmed with their mobiles, and the footage shows the proceedings in front of the church after the shooting. Ambulances are there, a lot of police officers are trying to keep the order. But he is clearly to be seen: there is David in the background. It’s definitely him, watching. 

Aziraphale has a heavy feeling in his heart. He watches the footage one last time, then calls Crowley back.  
“Have you seen him? Standing in the background? It was him. And he has done this. That’s it… That’s the last martyr… Aziraphale, it is the next sign!” Crowley is breathing much too fast. Aziraphale can hear it clearly over the phone.  
“Shh, we can’t know that. It can be just a coincidence. Calm down, my darling. Don’t get so upset. Think about the baby. We shouldn’t come to a conclusion before -”

“But you’ve seen it! Isn’t that proof enough?!” Crowley back home in the UK is shaking and pacing the living room.  
“He said he has to be somewhere! He took this damned sealed letter with him, and now a priest was shot, trying to save the members of his parish! Don’t you see it?”  
Crowley feels as if he could jump right out of his skin. Aziraphale has suspected the last martyr would be this man in Texas. But he has been in their own country, and they never had the chance to find out about it. 

“Crowley, darling, I…” Aziraphale sighs. Deep in his heart he knows Crowley’s right. And he sits in a boring hotel room on the other side of the planet instead with his pregnant husband.  
“I’m coming home as soon as I can. I’m gonna catch the next flight. Do you understand?”

“That’s it… that’s it… there is nothing we can do… the last martyr…” Crowley only mumbles now, staring into nothing, still pacing back and forth.  
“Crowley - listen to me. Stop mumbling and listen to me!”  
“We were so stupid… there is nothing more to do… the last martyr… just a simple priest… that’s it… we’re fucked…”  
“Crowley!”  
Finally Crowley stops his pacing.  
“Did you listen to me? I’m coming home! Wait for me, don’t do anything stupid!”  
“There is nothing we can do anyway, angel! It’s over! We lost our only chance of stopping this!”

Aziraphale sighs. He begins to throw the few clothes he has brought into his suitcase.  
“I’m not ready to give up, yet. I’m going to the airport now and book a flight. I’ll let you know when I’ll be home. I’ll take a cab, you don’t need to pick me up. Stay home. Calm down. Don’t try anything without me again, I beseech you. Call Anathema, if you think you might need someone. I am sure she will try to help you. Did you get all that, my darling?”

Crowley nods. Some silent tears have escaped his eyes and he caresses his baby bump.  
“Yeah… alright… I miss you so much, Aziraphale…”  
“I miss you, too. But I’ll do my best to be home as soon as possible. Don’t do something stupid. Wait for me.”  
Crowley nods again, although Aziraphale can’t see it. “Okay.”  
“Good. I’ll see you in a few hours, darling.”

Aziraphale hurries to the airport and uses a little miracle to get a ticket for the next non-stop flight back to London. The next ten hours are pure torture. He can’t talk to Crowley during the flight, all he can do now is wait. As soon as he leaves the plane he turns on his mobile again, but nothing from Crowley. He calls him, gets no answer, and Aziraphale feels himself begin to panic. Maybe he should have used all his power to miracle himself from Texas to London. Heaven wouldn’t object anymore about frivolous miracles. 

When he unlocks the door to their flat, he anxiously calls for Crowley.  
“Darling?” Crowley’s coats and car keys are at their usual place, and Aziraphale finds his demon in their bed, sleeping. His face is pale, he looks exhausted and pained even in his sleep. Aziraphale doesn’t want to wake him, so he leaves the bedroom again and makes himself some tea. He’s glad Crowley has found sleep at all, so he won’t disturb him.

As it turns out Crowley has entered such a deep state of slumber he doesn’t wake for the next five days. Aziraphale is concerned, but doesn’t dare wake him. Maybe this is Crowley’s way to cope with all this, and rest can only be good for him. Aziraphale spends most of his time in the bedroom, watching over him - just in case. He turns often in his sleep, sometimes groaning. Once or twice Aziraphale considers waking him, but can’t bring himself to do it. He is a little concerned about the wellbeing of their baby, though. So he tries to check at least twice a day if everything is fine with them.


	12. Time runs out

Crowley wakes on his own on the sixth morning - thirsty and ravenous. They don’t talk much until Crowley has showered and Aziraphale has made him a perfect breakfast. After he has satisfied his hunger Crowley is staring into his coffee mug, avoiding eye contact, when he asks: “Any news? Seen David? Anything I need to know? The world still turning?”  
“It apparently is still turning, but apart from that… nothing. The investigation in the shooting is already closed. It’s just like they already stated. The priest sacrificed his life for the other people in the church and his believes. David is still missing. I asked around in Soho, but he didn’t have much contact to other shop keepers. Just us.”  
Crowley snorts. “Told ya…”  
“You did. I went to his flat again, but no traces of him. Also still no traces of other letters. There must still be two left for the… the last signs.”  
“He will have them with him. Much too dangerous to let them lie around somewhere.”  
Aziraphale nods. “Yes… I was thinking… It’s already a week since the last martyr. Why would he wait much longer? I mean… He can get it over with much quicker.”

“How are we supposed to know? For all we know he can break the next seal today or in a year. It’s all the same to him.”  
“But is it the same for the almighty?”  
Crowley shrugs. Who knows about the almighty… He drinks the rest of his coffee in silence, before he gets up and extends a hand towards Aziraphale. The angel looks up at him, takes the offered hand.  
“Sleep with me. Who knows, maybe it’s the last time…” whispers Crowley.  
Aziraphale wants to protest. He's sure he won’t be able to perform anyway. Not with everything that has already happened and will happen in the foreseeable future. But how can he deny Crowley? He stands and follows Crowley into their bedroom. 

Never before have they made love like this. Although Aziraphale has feared he wouldn’t get an erection, it comes naturally once they are naked. They kiss and hold and caress each other for much longer than usual, soft words of love breathed in between kisses every few minutes. They would love to see each others faces, be able to kiss each other properly, but it’s much more comfortable for Crowley to lie on his side with Aziraphale behind him again when they are both ready. So Aziraphale takes to talking to make Crowley feel as loved as possible, even without eye contact and kissing. 

Crowley lies in Aziraphale’s arms, the angel’s thrusts slow and careful.  
“I love you so much, Crowley… my beloved… my everything… my eternity…”  
“Angel…” Crowley takes one of Aziraphale’s hands and holds it agains his chest. He feels Aziraphale’s lips on his shoulders and his breath on his neck and he could cry because this is so slow, so good, so very loving and tender. He has never thought this kind of lovemaking could be so pleasurable, but it is. Even more when he closes his eyes now and just feels. Feels Aziraphale’s warmth, hears his soft murmured words, how close he holds him. He loses every sense of time. It’s only here and now, it’s only them, their shared love. 

Crowley’s climax rolls through him slowly like waves. It’s not that blinding explosion he experiences so often with Aziraphale. This is much deeper, more intimate somehow. He shakes and moans, and Aziraphale feels his walls grip him, milk him, and he follows after a few more thrusts - breathless, overwhelmed, tears stinging in his eyes. 

When it’s over and Aziraphale slowly pulls out, Crowley immediately turns in his arms, finds himself in Aziraphale’s strong embrace, and they snuggle as close as they can with Crowley’s heavy belly between them. Aziraphale strokes Crowley’s cheeks, brushes one or two tears away and kisses him over and over again. They stay like this for more than an hour before they get up and get dressed again. They don’t really know what to do with themselves. Aziraphale tries to read and for once can’t concentrate. Crowley is glued to the tv screen, zapping through the channels - over and over and over. His back hurts, and he shifts repeatedly to find a more comfortable position. The day dissolves into night and into morning again. Crowley drifts in and out of sleep, constantly irritated by this constant pain in his back. When the sun has risen, Aziraphale gently wakes him and hands him a cup of coffee before he sits next to him with his morning tea. 

“What now? Do we just wait it out?” asks Crowley finally.  
“What _can_ we do?”  
Crowley stares at the tv without seeing anything. “I have no clue. You know what makes me angry? Really angry? That David has tried to befriend us. He _knew_ us. He knew what we are from the beginning. He has played us for a sucker. Why? Why did he do that? Just for his own perverse fun? Are we just a joke to him?”  
Aziraphale shrugs. “I don’t think we’ll find out…”  
“No… wanker…” Crowley puts his empty mug onto the coffee table and leans back again, staring up at the ceiling. He feels defeated. Tired. Helpless. He doesn’t dare think about their baby that’s supposed to be born in only three weeks. If the world still stands in three weeks…

A strange clinking sound draws his attention to the empty mug on the table. It vibrates very slightly and makes this strange sound. Crowley looks at Aziraphale, the angel stares at him with his eyes wide open.  
“Was that -” asks Aziraphale.  
“That can’t be -” says Crowley at the same time.  
A wave of fear runs through Aziraphale’s body. “But… that was no earthquake. We both know what earthquakes feel like.”  
They definitely do. But Crowley knows even more. He lifts one hand to silence Aziraphale before he stands up with a groan and walks over to a window. He opens it and looks outside. He tries to see and feel something that one is not supposed to feel. And there is no real proof for what he feels deep in his bones. Part of his snake nature. Animals can sense things far more easily and earlier than humans. But he is sure he feels it. Something big. 

When he turns, one hand on his aching back, he looks upset enough to make Aziraphale jump to his feet.  
“The next sign…” he says quietly, steadying himself by grabbing the windowsill. Cold February morning air ruffles his hair.  
“Are you sure?”  
Crowley doesn’t answer. He just looks at Aziraphale, swallowing hard. And all of a sudden his fighting spirit is back.  
“We have to find David. He is the only one who can prevent this disaster from happening,” Crowley says.  
“But where do you want to go looking for him? We have no clue where he is, we don’t even know when he’s going to break the next seal!”  
“I think he’s very, very close to doing it. Remember what the prophecies said? What’s missing?”  
“Earthquakes and an eclipse are the next sign. The last one… is the birth of a soulless child…”  
“You felt it, didn’t you? This… I don’t have a word for it. Like the earth is trembling. Waiting. For the next-to-last seal to be broken. To unleash its powers.”

Aziraphale’s gaze flickers. “You could be right… But again: Where do you want to go searching for him?”  
“Well, if I can feel it this clearly, David must be back in London. Where would you go to destroy something? Where would it have the most immediate impact?”  
Aziraphale goes pale.  
“Westminster…” he breathes. They look at each other, silent for the moment.  
“Then that’s where we have to go. And we have to do it now,” says Crowley, determined to finally do something.  
“We? Oh no, not you! Look at you, you are due in only three weeks!”  
“Do you really think David or the Almighty would be considerate of it? If we want to protect our baby, then we have to stop him!”

Crowley is already on his way to get his coat. When he reaches for the black coat, he clenches his teeth. Wrong movement. He has suffered from this very irritating back pain the whole day. Stretching for his coat hasn’t made it any better. But he tries not to show it.  
“Crowley! Are you out of your mind?”  
“Certainly not. Never been clearer. I’m going, whether you join me or not. But… I would prefer if you came with me."  
A grim determination develops on Aziraphale’s face. “As if I would let you go all on your own!”  
He walks past Crowley, takes his coat and looks at him. “Let’s go find him, then.”

Crowley curses. He can feel it. There is a tremble deep inside the guts of the earth. Oh no… He just hopes they are not too late. And that’s when it happens. The earth is shaking. The Bentley is thrown out of her traffic lane and Crowley cries out when he tries to steer her back and avoid an accident. He manages - others are not that lucky. The sound of crashing and screaming is to be heard, and they feel the earth shake again and hear a rumbling from deep, deep within its core. 

Aziraphale is holding onto the door handle for dear life and exhales shakily when Crowley hits the brakes and the car comes to a sudden halt before it can crash into a Volvo that’s standing askew in the middle of the road.  
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Crowley yells and heaves himself out of the car, tries to see what’s going on in front of them.  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”  
Aziraphale gets out, too, his knees a little shaky. People around them are screaming and running, traffic lights are shaking and some windows are smashed. The pavement is full of broken glass. Another seismic shock, and both angel and demon grab hold onto the Bentley’s roof. Parts of the plastering of houses come smashing down. There is noise and chaos everywhere.  
“Oh my god! Are you alright, Crowley?”  
“Yeah. But there is an accident. Right in front. Road is blocked. We will have to walk the rest of the way.”  
“Walk? Have you gone mad? Look around you! An earthquake has hit the centre of London!”  
“Obviously! That means David has broken the seal! Westminster Bridge isn’t far. Come on, angel!”  
Crowley is reluctant to leave his car here, but he has no choice. If they don’t succeed today, then the Bentley is lost anyway. He balls his hands into fists. Oh, this damn pain in his back and pelvis… he takes some death breaths, rolls his hips. Better.  
“Let’s go,” he commands and comes round the car. Aziraphale sees how pale he is. He wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Stay close to me.”

And so they walk on towards Westminster Bridge. Trafalgar Square already behind them, they follow Whitehall towards the river as fast as Crowley can manage. After about ten minutes he needs a moment.  
“Wait a second, Zira… I have to get my breath back…” Crowley begs and stops. He supports himself with one hand on a street lamp and takes some measured breaths - in through his nose, out through his mouth. That also helps with this damn pain in the lower half of his body. His hips are trying to kill him…

Aziraphale waits patiently, until Crowley nods and walks on. He is more than concerned. Police on motorcycles are the only ones able to maneuver through the traffic jam. The blaring of sirens, the constant honking of horns and the shouting and screaming of people is creating a cacophony of sounds and lets Crowley’s head ache. Blimey. A migraine is the last thing he wants now… 

While they walk on a strong wind comes up. And then suddenly people are stopping, looking at the sky, pointing upwards. Aziraphale and Crowley stop to look up, too. And see it. The sky is a little cloudy today, the sun only a light spot behind the grey clouds. But it is still clearly to see when the moon slowly moves in front of it, obscuring the perfect circle of the sun and dimming out the light.  
“Oh no… No, this is bad…” Crowley grabs for Aziraphale’s hand and squeezes it so hard it hurts. Aziraphale gasps.  
“The second part of the sign…” whispers Aziraphale, barely audible over the noise around them. Then he pulls Crowley to walk on.  
“Come. We don’t have much time. We have to find David,” he urges, and Crowley follows as fast as he can manage. Damn, the pain in his back and lower half is already making it difficult to walk… 

Parliament Square is like Hell. There is running and screaming, police everywhere trying to calm the panicking masses of people and to protect the politicians evacuating the Palace of Westminster. Red busses are blocking each and every road, at least six cars have crashed into another. Pedestrians are tying to help injured drivers and passengers. The entrances to the tube are already blocked. Here, too, windows are broken, parts of the buildings littering the pavement. Someone runs into Aziraphale and Crowley in a blind panic, and they both stumble. Crowley’s glasses are knocked off his nose and crunch under someones heel. Aziraphale manages to catch them both and is so tempted to make his wings appear to shield them from the crowds of people, but he doesn’t dare - it would cause even more chaos. Around them the light is dimmed to a quality of dusk. He glances up and sees that the sun is now completely covered, the flaming corona of the sun surrounding the shape of the moon is making it look like a giant eye glaring down at the earth… 

“There!” Crowley points towards Westminster Bridge. Among all the running people is one figure - standing still and upright on the left side of the bridge not very far onto it, looking out north. The London eye is still turning, Aziraphale can still see some people in the pods. How must they feel right now? But he can’t care much about them right now. Crowley is panting next to him, groaning and clinging onto him for support. They manage to get onto the bridge. Part of the railing has fallen into the river, there are cracks in the pavement. 

As if David has sensed their presence, he is turning and looks at them. He is only in jeand and his white dress shirt, not caring about the winter cold. In his hands he holds an old, yellowed envelope. Crowley growls and feels a new ounce of strength caused by his rage. He ignores the ache in his pelvis and back and carries on.  
“You! This is all your fault!” he yells as they push their way through the fleeing people.  
“I’m sorry. I have no choice,” David says, when the are close enough to hear him.  
“No choice? This is the end of the fucking world!”  
“I just told you, Crowley. I am really sorry.” 

Crowley stops a few steps away from David and glares at him.  
“Can’t you stop this? Have you even tried?!” demands Crowley.  
“Do you really think I want this? I have been wandering this earth for millennia now! Not as long as you both, I admit. But don’t you think I’m tired of this? Bringing Her wrath upon whoever She sees fit? I don’t question Her, I stopped that long ago. But I am not like you. She made me immortal, but I’m still human!”  
“Then She must have spoken to you! Have you never spoken out for your people?”  
“You don’t think She would listen to a tiny human being like me, don’t you? I have tried to fight it, I really did! But I have no choice! I am Her instrument, nothing more. I can’t even kill myself!”  
Tears are beginning to shine in Davis’s eyes. He looks tired. Sad. Helpless. It would move Aziraphale were the situation not so serious. 

“But the signs… You say you have to bring them. But I have read about it, the chain can be broken! Isn’t there any way to help us?”  
“You don’t understand, Aziraphale. This is the end. The second coming of Jesus. You can’t stop any of this. How would you?”  
“But… the world, David! Humanity! You are human, for God’s sake!”  
“Yes, I am human. But I am more that that. I am God’s wrath. I have no choice… I have no choice! Please forgive me…” With these words he breaks the last seal, and the Letter falls from his trembling fingers. A new shock makes the earth beneath their feet tremble.

Crowley groans loudly when he feels the pain he has felt all day suddenly spike to a new level. Aziraphale turns towards him.  
“Crowley?”  
Crowley looks at him, and his eyes go wide when he feels warm liquid run down his thighs.  
“Angel…” He reaches out his hand, and Aziraphale takes it. He sees Crowley’s dark trousers soak through with liquid. That explains the back pain he has felt the whole day. He’s in labour. As if this day couldn’t get any worse!  
“Oh my god… no! Crowley, your waters just broke!” Aziraphale exclaims.  
Crowley hisses. “I am aware, Zira!”  
“What do we do?” Aziraphale looks around. There is still chaos everywhere.  
The same moment Crowley shoves his mobile into Aziraphale’s other hand.  
“Call an ambulance,” Crowley instructs him and then tries to back away from David, who is approaching them.  
“No! Don’t come near!” Crowley warns him, baring his teeth. He hunches over his belly, trying to protect his unborn child. 

“I am not doing you any harm. Not to you, not to your baby. I don’t do any of these things. I am only the bearer. It was never my choice.” He lifts his hands to show he means them no harm, but Crowley ignores his gesture and the single tear that is running down his cheek. He turns towards Aziraphale who is still just clutching Crowley’s mobile in his hands.  
“What are you waiting for? Call an ambulance!” Crowley demands through gritted teeth.  
“But… do you really want to go to a hospital? We’re not…” He glances at David, and Crowley begins to lose it.  
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Aziraphale, he knows what we are! No need to pretend anything anymore! I won’t give birth on a crowded London street, you hear me? It doesn’t matter in the end who discovers my true nature! The world is about to end! But I won’t die without holding my child in my arms! And now call the fucking ambulance!” 

They had planned a home birth. Over the millennia they have both watched countless births. And they have both assisted during some of them. Crowley had expressed his full trust into Aziraphale’s ability to help him. But neither of them had expected the birthday of their child to be the last day of the world… 

“But you wanted to be home for the birth. I can try to miracle us home,” Aziraphale objects.  
“This is much too early and going much too quickly, something’s not right! And you won’t be able to miracle all three of us to Soho! Now do something, for someone’s sake!” Crowley groans in pain, his eyes fully golden.

“You don’t need an ambulance. Look around you, no ambulance in the whole world would be able to come through this chaos. St. Thomas hospital is on the other side of the river opposite the Houses of Parliament. We could be there in only a few minutes on foot,” says David.  
Crowley glares at him. “We? WE?! You don’t come near me, you understand?” he shouts, but then cries out when another contraction hits him. 

Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate. He scoops Crowley up who isn’t even able to protest right now and hurries to cross the river. Crowley, groaning in pain, is holding onto Aziraphale’s neck, his face buried into the angel’s shoulder. David follows with a step distance. When the contraction fades, Crowley growls.  
“This is embarrassing you carrying me this way…”  
“I don’t care about embarrassing right now! You are about to give birth, and a hospital is only a bridge away.”


	13. The seventh sign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most challenging chapter so far. I don't want to trigger someone, so my warnings as did my tags give part of the plot away. But I just wanted to give some fair warnings. These are for a graphic birth - and two (non permament) deaths.

Said bridge is Westminster bridge, crowded with people and traffic. The people are shouting and shoving. Together with the honking of busses, cabs and other cars this creates a deafening noise. Aziraphale shoves his way through the many people. Crowley stays snuggled against Aziraphale’s chest and tries not to panic. What if the earth shakes again and they are in the middle of the bridge? What if someone freaks out and does something really stupid? They are nearly over the bridge, when he feels the next contraction building. Not good. It can’t have been more than three minutes since the last one. This is definitely developing much too fast. He tries to breathe through the pain and the fear, but the pain soon makes him cry out. This is the opposite of what he had planned and hoped for the arrival of their child… 

“Nearly there, my dear,” Aziraphale murmurs directly into Crowley’s ear. He’s not even out of breath. Crowley would be a little turned on by this display of angelic power were he not in the middle of a contraction. His hands grip the worn fabric of Aziraphale’s coat. Hopefully the fabric won’t tear… Crowley pants when the pain subsides. He takes some deep breaths. They have crossed the bridge, and Aziraphale is walking towards the entrance of A&E. The nearer he comes the clearer it gets: the situation is a disaster. Patients who are able to walk are fleeing the hospital on foot. Others are being loaded up in ambulances. There is chaos everywhere. 

Aziraphale is making his way through the entrance and tries to find a nurse or a doctor to help them. But nobody really takes notice. Crowley is screaming in pain, the contractions only minutes apart now. His labour is progressing too quickly. And finally someone turns towards them. But not in the way Aziraphale has hoped for. Some nurses run towards them.

“We are evacuating! King’s college hospital is still taking patients in!”  
“No! My partner is in labour! We don’t have the time to go to another hospital!” Aziraphale exclaims. He is still carrying Crowley on his arms. The demon is panting heavily, some tears have escaped his eyes.   
“The streets which aren’t already closed are blocked by cars! We were lucky to make it here!” protests Aziraphale.  
“We know what’s going on, but we can’t admit new patients! This is chaos! You can’t stay here!”  
“We have to! Please, you have to help us!” begs Aziraphale. Crowley screams again. The nurse hesitates, looks at Crowley and then sighs. 

“I’m going to call the delivery room, see if someone’s still there.” The young man reaches into the pocket of his scrubs for a phone.   
“This is A & E, we have a patient in labour, the contractions seem to be only a few minutes apart. Can I send them up? We can’t transfer them to another hospital. Even if an ambulance could take her, she won’t make it. - Just a moment.” The nurse turns towards Aziraphale.   
“How far along is your wife?”   
“37 weeks,” answers Aziraphale.   
“Cara? 37 weeks, premature labour, waters have broken. - No way. We can’t send them away, she will give birth very soon from what I can tell. - Okay. Thanks, Cara.” The nurse ends the call.   
“Follow me. This way.” 

The way up to the maternity ward and the delivery rooms only takes a few minutes, but they seem like hours for Aziraphale who is helpless and Crowley who is trying to breathe through the pain. It’s not safe to take one of the lifts, so they walk up the staircase. A midwife waits for them at the door to the maternity ward. She’s in scrubs, her dark hair tied up into a messy bun, dark strands of hair falling into her eyes. She looks scared, but determined.   
“This is not the best day to give birth. Hi. I’m Cara. How far apart are the contractions?” She guides them inside and into a delivery room.  
“Only two or three minutes apart.”  
“And her waters did break already?”  
“Yes. About just ten minutes ago.”  
Cara sighs. She knows this birth is going to happen really soon. “Okay. This way. On the delivery bed. I have to make some checks.”

Aziraphale follows her into a delivery room.   
“I’m going to lay you down on the bed now, my dear.”  
Crowley only groans. Leaving Aziraphale’s warm, strong arms makes him feel cold and alone. He reaches for Aziraphale’s hand.   
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,” Aziraphale reassures him and presses a kiss to the back of Crowley’s hand. 

“Who is the father?” Cara is rolling an ultrasound machine out of a corner. It’s this moment Aziraphale realizes David has come with them into the hospital and even into the delivery room. But he decides to ignore him for the moment to focus on Crowley.   
“Me.” Aziraphale bends over Crowley and wipes the strands of matted red hair out of his forehead.   
“And who is he?” Cara looks at David, who has retreated a few steps to be out of the way.   
“He… is a friend. He can stay.”  
“Okay, if you say so…” Cara turns her attention to Crowley and startles when he opens his eyes to look at her. She retreats a step. 

Aziraphale sees confusion cross her features. She doesn’t know what to make of his golden eyes with the slitted pupils. He uses a little miracle to convince her that there is nothing wrong with Crowley’s eyes. Cara blinks a few times, then approaches Crowley again. Must have been a trick of the light…   
“Hi again. Can you tell me your name?”  
It’s Aziraphale who answers instead: “Anthony - Antonia. Toni for short. He… is a transman.”   
Cara nods. “Nice to meet you, Toni. When was your last appointment with your midwife?”  
Again it’s Aziraphale who answers. Crowley groans in pain, when another contraction builds.   
“We… we didn’t have any. He didn’t want to see anyone. But everything was fine so far.”  
Cara sighs again. This is not her first pregnant transman. And not the first mother-to-be who has never seen a doctor or a midwife during their pregnancy.   
“Thank you for telling me. I want to make a quick ultrasound. See if baby’s alright in there. I need you push that shirt up, Toni. May I?” She barely waits for Crowley’s consent and pushes the fabric of his dark shirt out of the way, before she spreads some gel onto his belly and reaches for the probe of the ultrasound. Crowley tries to breathe through the pain of the contraction and not scream again.

Aziraphale gasps, when he looks at the blurry black and white image that appears on the screen. It’s the first time he sees their baby, and he would be awestruck, weren’t it for the chaotic situation they are in. From outside he can hear the constant blaring of sirens, the screams of people and suddenly there is the sound and tremor of a nearby explosion. Cara looks up. She looks frightened, but still determined. She puts the probe back into its holder and reaches for a towel to wipe the gel from Crowley’s belly.   
“Baby’s in the correct birthing position, heartbeat is fine. Toni, I have to make an exam to see how far dilated you already are. It’s a little uncomfortable, but I have to know where we stand. That means we have to take your trousers and pants off. Alright? But we have to anyway when things start to get serious. And they will pretty soon.”   
“Yes… please help the baby…” pants Crowley. Cara nods, and together with Aziraphale she helps Crowley out of his clothes. She puts on some gloves and gently pushes his thighs apart. 

Crowley winces, when Cara makes the exam.   
“You are already nearly fully dilated. This will be over very soon. Do you already feel an urge to push, Toni?”  
“No… Zira!”   
“I’m here, my love. You’re doing so well. Cara is going to help you. And then we will have our baby.”  
“I can’t lose them. Please, Zira, we can’t. David…” Crowley turns his head to look at David. And Crowley can see it: David looks devastated. And then he quietly says: “I can’t do anything. It’s not in my power.”

A new contractions hits him, and Crowley screams in fear and pain.   
“You’re not losing your baby. I’m gonna help you. We’re in this together,” Cara tries to reassure him. She doesn’t know what Crowley is referring to. She decides to proceed as usual and hurries to prepare everything she will need. 

“Cara? Are you still here?” Hurried footsteps approach, and Aziraphale positions himself in front of Crowley, who is still half naked and mostly oblivious to his surroundings, still in the throes of the ongoing contraction. The door to the delivery room is opened and a young nurse looks inside.   
“Oh my god! Cara, what are you doing? We have to leave! All patients have been moved already, we’re the only ones left!”  
Cara shakes her head. “I can’t. This birth is too far gone, we can’t move them now. I’m staying. Is one of the doctors still here?”  
“Everyone’s gone. And… I can’t stay either.”  
“Natalie! Wait! I might need help!”  
“I’m sorry! I have to go home and look for my parents!”  
And with that the nurse is gone. Aziraphale looks at Cara. He can see how frightened she is, too. But then she takes a deep breath. 

“Okay. Looks like we’ll have to do this on our own. But we can do this. And we will.”  
Crowley is gasping for breath. He is exhausted, and he is frightened. The noise from outside is still there, and another explosion is to be heard in the distance. Crowley cries out, and it looks as if he wants to try and get up and run.   
“Don’t worry, Toni, we’re safe here. Do you hear me? We’re safe. And we’re going to deliver your baby. That’s all we are going to concentrate on right now.” Cara tries her best to stay calm and to help her patient to stay confident. With no doctor left, they have to deliver the baby and hope for no complications. 

“Zira, is that your name?” Cara turns towards Aziraphale. Aziraphale nods.   
“Okay. You get on the bed. I need you to help Toni with the last phase of the birth.”   
Aziraphale nods again. He sits down next to Crowley and puts an arm around him. “I’m here. Don’t worry about anything. I trust Cara. She will help us.”  
Crowley begins to groan, the next contraction is building. Cara sits between his legs now.   
“Okay, Toni. Things are getting serious. Baby’s head is already crowning. Things are developing quickly here. Do you need to push?”  
But Crowley doesn’t answer. His face is red, his eyes squeezed shut while he tries to endure the pain.   
“Toni! Listen to me! Do you feel the need to push?”  
“Can’t… it hurts… I can’t…” Crowley pants. 

“You can’t stop now, Toni! Baby’s on the way, you have to help them!”   
“I can’t! Zira, please, do something…” Then he screams again.  
“There is nothing I can do, darling! Breathe, my dearest. You can do this. I know you can. You are strong.”  
Tears are rolling out of the corners of Crowley’s eyes. He begins to sob and goes limp for a moment in Aziraphale’s arm.   
“Crowley! Listen to me! Our baby needs your help!” Aziraphale feels helpless. There is not much he can do. He tries to transfer some strength through their contact and hopes it works. 

Another explosion, this time much nearer, makes the cupboards rattle. Cara, though she doesn’t want to, cries out. “Shit!”  
Crowley opens his eyes again. Aziraphale has never before seen him so frightened. It’s this moment David takes a step closer. Crowley looks at him. 

“Would you die for them?” asks David, and Aziraphale’s breathing hitches. No - he can’t be implying…

Crowley’s gaze searches for David’s, he is gasping for breath, his face contorted in pain. His hands hold onto Aziraphale’s in such a tight grip that the angel will surely show bruises when everything’s over. Crowley’s eyes are wide, purely golden. 

“Would you die for them?!” shouts David now - and then there is a moment of silence so loud that it rings in everybody’s ears.   
“Yes! Yes, I would die for them!” replies Crowley, his voice hoarse. Another wave of pain grips his body with a ferocity that’s new. He can’t help but shriek, his eyes scrunched shut, even more tears wetting his face. 

Cara looks up.   
“Nobody’s gonna die here! But we have to do this now, do you hear me, Toni?”  
Crowley wheezes. He is tired, it hurts so much, and he fears for his child’s life.   
“Toni! I need you to help me here! You have to push!”

Aziraphale turns to David and glares at him. “NO! I won’t let that happen! I can’t! Crowley is my soul mate, you can’t take him away from me!” Aziraphale all but yells at him and stands up.   
“Not even if he could save the whole world?” David’s voice is soft now, Aziraphale can see the pain on his face. Oh, this isn’t easy on him, too. But he’s not about to lose his mate of 6.000 years, the mother of his child!

“It’s a sacrifice, Aziraphale. A sacrifice that will rescue the world. And that will save his soul from the eternal fires of Hell.”  
“You can’t take him away from me!” Aziraphale feels tears on his cheeks. A sacrifice… there is no hope Crowley could ever come back to him. He can’t just discorporate, fill in some paperwork and then wait for a new body. A sacrifice weren’t a sacrifice if you could come back from the dead… He looks down again, sees Crowley gasping for breath, only groaning in pain now, too exhausted to do much more. 

“You don’t have to do this, my love!”  
Crowley opens his eyes again to look at his angel. “But I have to… it’s the world, angel. And our baby… Our baby means the world to me…”  
A new contraction makes Crowley grip his belly and howl in pain. Cara doesn’t understand the discussion. These three seem to have some big problem. But right now they have another very urgent problem. They have to deliver this baby.   
“We have to do this now! What ever is going on here, there is a baby to be born, and if we don’t deliver it as quickly as possible, I can’t guarantee for Toni’s or the baby’s health!” Cara yells at Aziraphale and David, then decides to ignore them. 

“Okay, Toni. This is between us. Ignore everything else. You have to push now. Wait for the next contraction and then push! Do you hear me?”  
“I can’t… I can’t…” groans Crowley. Aziraphale looks at him and then hurries back to his side.   
“You can! You can and you will. We started this together, we will carry on together!” He kneels behind Crowley, shuffles close and supports his upper body. Then he reaches around him for his hands. 

“I’m here. Hold my hands. We’re in this together. You can do this. For our baby.”  
Crowley pants. His hands hold Aziraphale’s in a vise like grip. Cara feels a litte amount of relief that finally the focus is on the birth and the baby again.   
“Okay. Concentrate, Toni. Do you feel it?”  
Crowley can only nod. Yes, he feels it. The next contraction is building fast.   
“You can do this. Go on, Toni! Push!”  
Crowley takes a deep breath and pushes. He feels how the baby’s head stretches him open, how the pressure builds and builds.   
“That’s it! You’re doing great! Go on, keep pushing!” 

Crowley loses every sense of time. The pain is intense. He is pushing and groaning. Black spots are dancing in front of him. He can feel Aziraphale’s presence, but mostly tries to listen to what Cara demands of him. He pushes his body to its limits and screams in agony.   
“The head is out! Stop for a moment, let me check for the cord. Take some deep breaths, it’s almost done.”   
“You’re amazing, Crowley. You’re so strong. You can do this,” Aziraphale reassures the demon. Crowley wishes he could just get up and leave. Why did he let this happen in the first place? This is torture. He feels the next contraction and groans.   
“Alright. Next are the shoulders. Give me another push.”  
With a roar and his eyes squeezed tightly shut Crowley gathers the rest of his strength and pushes. He feels something give, a rush of fluid and then the pressure’s gone. 

“There she is! It’s a girl. You did it, Toni,” Cara says, but Aziraphale can see tension in her shoulders, her face is serious.   
“Cara? Is the baby alright?” asks Aziraphale. Cara reaches for two clamps on the table next to her to secure them around the umbilical cord and quickly cuts between them.   
“What’s happening? Talk to us!”  
But Cara doesn’t answer. She bends down, and Aziraphale can’t help but lower Crowley’s upper body and shuffle forward on his knees. And then he can see the baby for the first time. 

She is so tiny, covered in amniotic fluid, blood and mucus. And she doesn’t move. Cara is applying CPR to the newborn.   
“What’s going on? Cara, please!” Aziraphale doesn’t dare to interfere, but his heart is racing and hammering against his ribs. He hears Crowley moan and feels him shift.   
“Zira?”  
But Aziraphale can’t answer him. He watches Cara’s efforts. Until she takes a deep breath, sighs and then stops. She looks up and shakes her head. 

Aziraphale feels a pain so intense that he chokes on it for a moment. Tears are stinging in his eyes. He knows what this means. It not only means the end of the world. A soulless baby, stillborn like a soulless baby is supposed to be… No more souls left in the Guf. It’s over. If this was the Great Plan, then it has finally succeeded… But it’s not only that. His child is dead. The child he has come to love so very much. The child he had longed to hold in his arms, to care for and cherish. The child they both have waited for so desperately… It hurts so much, it takes Aziraphale’s breath away. 

Cara reaches for a cloth and carefully wraps the baby in it. She lifts the baby and looks at Aziraphale. The angel reaches out his trembling hands, takes the silent little bundle from her and turns to face Crowley. 

“Is she alright? I can’t hear her crying. Is she alright?” asks Crowley, still out of breath, his voice barely audible. Tears are streaming down Aziraphale’s face. The baby in his arms is limp and unresponsive. He shakes his head.   
Crowley reaches for her, stretches his arm to be able to touch his daughter for the first time. ”No...“ Crowley whispers.   
“No!”   
This can’t be true. He had said it. He said it! He would die for her. He would. And he has to hold her. Has to look at her. She’s his baby, he has endured so much to hold her in his arms…  
“I want to see her!”  
Aziraphale can’t deny him. He tries to prepare himself, but knows it’s impossible. This will break Crowley’s heart… He takes a deep breath, then scoots closer to Crowley and lowers his arms. 

Crowley tries to push himself up a little. His heart is racing, he feels sick. Aziraphale looks devastated, when he lowers the silent little bundle. Crowley reaches for it and pushes the fabric aside until he can see and touch her. His fingertips glide over the baby’s skin. It’s rosy and warm, but he, too, can see it: she’s not breathing, lying totally still. Crowley has always thought it was just a phrase, but now he thinks it’s true: a heart can break. He takes a breath that sounds more like a sob. 

“Amaris…” he breathes, again tries to sit up and reaches for her. Aziraphale doesn’t know what to do, but Crowley does.   
“Give her to me. I want to hold her.” Without thinking Aziraphale hands the baby to Crowley. Crowley takes her into his arms, he kisses her forehead and breathes over her face.   
“Amaris…” he whispers. It’s the name they had chosen for their child. Amaris - meaning _given by god_.   
“Amaris… I love you so much…” 

At the same moment the baby takes a big breath and then cries. Her voice is strong, she starts to move her arms and legs, and then she is really crying. Aziraphale gasps.   
“Oh my Amaris… oh thank god, my darling…” Crowley begins to sob and laugh at the same time. Tears are rolling down his cheeks. Aziraphale sees the pure bliss and relief on Crowley’s face. He looks more tired and exhausted than ever before, but also happier than he has ever seen him.   
“Amaris, my little angel, oh my most precious… thank you. Oh god, thank you…” He covers her face with kisses, not caring about blood and mucus and her loud crying. 

Aziraphale wipes tears from his face and can’t believe what’s happening right in front of him.   
“My god…”   
Crowley looks up now. Their eyes meet, and his smile begins to fade.  
“Zira…” he breathes, his eyes going wide. He begins to tremble.   
“Darling?” Aziraphales feels as if he is punched in the gut. There is this look of pure horror on Crowley’s face.   
“Zira - I’m sorry…” Crowley’s hands are starting to shake uncontrollably, his breathing becomes ragged. Aziraphale’s heart begins to race, he feels as if he’s drenched in ice water.   
“Crowley? Crowley, what’s happening? Talk to me!”  
Crowley reaches out a hand. Aziraphale takes it. He is shaking.   
“It’s fine, angel. It was for her. I would have done everything for her…” Crowley murmurs. The baby has quieted down, though she still coos and moves her little arms and legs, and everything around them goes silent.   
“Love you, angel. Always have,” whispers Crowley.  
“No - no! I need you! I need you here with me! Don’t go! You can’t leave me!”  
Crowley smiles at him, his fingers twitch in Aziraphale’s hand - and then he’s gone.

“Crowley! No, god, please, no!” Aziraphale squeezes Crowley’s hand, moves his other hand up to Crowley’s cheek, touches it.  
“No! I won’t allow that! Crowley! You can’t leave me! You can’t! Please!”   
But Crowley lies perfectly still, litte Amaris still cradled in his arm. 

Aziraphale can’t believe what has just happened. But Crowley’s golden eyes are empty. His face looks peaceful. Tears are again streaming down Aziraphale’s face. He can’t say anything more. He takes Crowley’s hand again, kisses it and cradles it against his chest. This can’t happen. How is this possible? This should never have happened? He can’t suppress his sobs anymore. He feels as if his chest has been ripped open and he is bleeding out. But a protesting noise from the baby pulls him out of his shocked state. Amaris… Oh lord, what’s he going to do now? Aziraphale presses a last kiss to the back of Crowley’s hand and and then very gently puts it onto his chest, bends over him and kisses his pale lips. He carefully takes the baby from Crowley’s other arm and cradles her against his chest. He lowers his head and sobs while his little daughter is kicking and moving in his arms. Cara feels the sting of tears in her eyes. She goes to fetch a blanket and drapes it over Crowley’s still body up to his chin. 

A rumbling thunder startles Aziraphale and pulls him out of his misery. He looks up and to the window. Through his tears he can see though, that the sky is light again, suddenly stunningly clear and blue. He turns to look at David who is still standing a few steps away. It looks as if a strange light surrounds him, and he smiles.   
“It’s done, Aziraphale - angel of the Eastern Gate, guardian, principality. The hall of souls is filled again. That was all Crowley’s doing. The doing of a demon. A demon with enough hope for the whole of the world. And didn’t I tell you it was a sacrifice?”  
“What’s that got to do with it? He’s gone! He was my one and only love, and he’s gone!” Aziraphale yells, not caring if he startles Amaris. How does David dare speak of Crowley and a sacrifice? He has lost him!   
“The demon is gone. But Crowley was an angel once.”  
Aziraphale follows David’s gaze. It hurts so much to look at Crowley’s limp, still body. But then he sees it. There is light. Just like the light surrounding David, it is surrounding Crowley’s body, too. Aziraphale gasps and sniffs, trying to focus his gaze. What is happening?


	14. Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being patient! I hope this chapter makes up for the heartbreak from the last one. 
> 
> The last finishing touches to the last chapter are also made, so I can really say: This story is finished, and I am very happy how it turned out. Hope you like the rest, too...

_It’s dark. There is only little light from some oil lamps illuminating the corridor Crowley is standing in. He feels the cool stone beneath his bare feet and is distantly aware that he is wearing a white robe, that his wings are out and that his hair is long. It tickles his face. He lifts his hand to touch it. He looks at the strands he is running through his fingers. The usual fiery red. But hasn’t it been short lately? And his wings… It only needs a thought, and one of his wings moves forward. Crowley leaves his hair and touches the wing with the tips of his fingers. White… The feathers are white. That doesn’t seem right. But somehow he can’t put a finger on it, and it doesn’t seem important right now. Because there is nothing else he can do, he begins to slowly walk down the empty corridor._

_There is light in it, but it’s unnaturally silent. He can’t even hear his own footsteps. He’s somehow aware that something horrible has happened - and something utterly beautiful at the same time. But his memory seems to be blurred. He can’t remember much. What has happened? He only knows he feels terribly tired and yet elated, and isn’t that the strangest feeling he’s ever felt?_

_He rounds a corner and sees a big, open door and bright light at the end of the corridor shining through that door. He’s curious. He has always been curious. Has always asked too many questions. Has always wanted to know. And now he wants to know what that light is. He walks on, and then finally he can hear something. It’s something he hasn’t heard in millennia. It’s an angelic choir, the voices of Heaven. Goosebumps are running over Crowley’s body. He lifts his hands and rubs them over his arms which are covered by this strange white robe. He hasn’t worn something like that for a long, long time… He catches a glimpse of his own hands and startles. What is that?_

_The bright light illuminates something that makes him gasp. There are tiny golden shiny marks on his hands - and he knows them all by heart. He would always recognize them: constellations of stars. Crowley stares. He stops for a moment and pushes the sleeves of his robe up. The golden constellations run from the backs of his hands and over his forearms. But before he can investigate even more, the sound of singing and praising gets louder. It feels as if he is being pulled forward again by this sound, and he walks on again._

_The light is so bright, he has to squint his eyes and lift a hand to shield himself from that much light. And the sounds… it’s loud now, filling his ears, filling his mind, filling his heart. He looks. And he can see something moving within the light, fluttering and laughing and… this is a gigantic hall. It’s so much all of a sudden that he has difficulties to comprehend. That’s when he feels someone behind him and turns around._

_Standing behind him is David, a smile on his face. He is illuminated by the bright light from out of the great hall. It makes his blue eyes seem to glow.  
“Do you remember this place?” asks David. His voice is soft and soothing.  
Crowley swallows. “It’s the Guf. I… I remember it. But… that was so long ago. And… there was something… shouldn’t it be empty?”  
“It should. It _was _. Do you remember what happened?”_

_Crowley gazes into nothing for a moment. Then realization dawns on him, memories come flooding back.  
“I gave birth to my child… And then… I… I died,” he says quietly. Then he looks at David again.  
“I am dead.”  
“Yes. You would maybe call it inconveniently discorporated. I am sorry for that. But I can assure you there will be no paperwork.”  
“No paperwork? Why should there be paperwork? And why am I here? Shouldn’t I be in Hell?”  
David’s smile brightens. “Don’t you know what a sacrifice means?”  
“Forgiveness. But I… I am unforgivable.” He remembers what he has said to Aziraphale at the bandstand before they broke apart shortly before the supposed apocalypse. And that’s when he remembers everything._

_“Aziraphale! And Amaris - are they alright?” he asks breathlessly.  
“They are fine. You can see for yourself. Only a moment longer.”  
“A moment longer? Before what?”  
“Before I have thanked you and… given you back your old name.”  
Crowley cocks his head. “But my old name… was taken from the book of Heaven.”  
“It was. But it’s written back into it again.”_

_Crowley looks at his hands with the golden marks. “Does that mean…”  
“You’re forgiven. And that means you can go back to Heaven. If that’s what you want.”  
Crowley looks up, pondering, and then furrows his brow.  
“Well, David, you know what? I am not interested in Heaven. Heaven has nothing in store for me. All the stars are already made. There is nothing more for me to do up here.” A glimpse of the old rebellious and snappy Crowley makes it’s way to the surface again, and David can’t help but laugh.  
“Alright. If that’s what you choose, then I am sure someone will be very happy to have you back.”_

_“I can go back? Down to earth?”  
“You have a daughter to look after. Of course you can go back. And help your husband take care of her. You earned yourself some peace and quiet. But don’t go lazy down there.” The smile fades and David looks at him very earnestly now.  
“Earth and humanity have been given a second chance. _You _have been given a second chance. That’s very rare. So make the best of it.”  
Crowley bites his lip. He’s not sure if he can make the best out of a chance like this. But he is willing to try, if only he can go back to his angel and his daughter. He nods. _

_“Alright. Time for you to go back, then. The Guf is full again. And with the help of three angels on earth I hope everything will turn out fine.”  
“Three angels?” asks Crowley. But then David lifts his hands and cups Crowley’s cheeks.  
“Farewell. And thank you, Sariel.” David presses his lips to Crowley’s forehead. And then Crowley feels as if he is ripped out of this reality, as if he is falling once again, and for a second he fears just that: that he is falling again and will find himself in a pool of boiling sulphur once more._

But all he feels is coldness and pain, and he takes a breath - because he has always breathed down here on earth, that’s what one does - and then he sees Aziraphale, holding a tiny bundle in his arms. He sees the angel’s eyes go wide and how realization hits him.  
“Crowley! Oh my god!”  
“Zira?” Crowley rasps. He is still a little hoarse from his crying and screaming during birth.  
“My darling!” Aziraphale shuffles close and can’t help but hug his husband with one arm. In his other arm he holds their little daughter. 

Crowley still feels as if a ton of bricks has hit him, but he buries his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck and feels like he could cry. He is back. He is really back, and he has his husband and his baby with him, and he is allowed to continue his life on earth. He flings his arms around Aziraphale and just enjoys the warm feeling and the comfort Aziraphale is giving him. His gaze finds David, who is still standing a few steps away. Their eyes meet. David smiles at him and gives him a nod. Then he just turns around - and leaves. Crowley is about to say something, when little Amaris begins to cry and Crowley’s attention is back on his baby. He pulls away from Aziraphale’s embrace. 

“I want to hold my daughter. Give her to me, please.”  
“Of course.” Aziraphale hands Amaris over, and Crowley cradles her safely in his arms.  
“There you go, my dearest. Look at how beautiful she is…”  
Crowley looks at her in amazement and pulls the cloth away. He has to look at her, has to touch her skin. He yearns for it. He puts his fingertips onto her chest. And gasps.  
“Oh! David was right!”  
“David? What about him?”  
“I… when I was gone I had… I don’t know, a vision probably. David was there. And before he sent me back he told me, there would be three angels to look after humanity.”  
Aziraphale puts his fingers onto Amaris’ little chest next to Crowley’s. His eyes widen.  
“Oh… You’re right. She is an angel. A real angel…” He looks down at the baby. Her skin is so very smooth under his fingertips, so perfect. He can clearly feel her angelic heritage, but he can’t see any golden angelic marks. His own mark is hidden beneath his clothes - a golden line running down his spine. A single golden mark which Crowley only knows about because Aziraphale has once told him. He has never seen it with his own eyes.

This is the moment Aziraphale sees them - the many tiny golden marks that are scattered over the skin of Crowley’s hands and forearms and which now attract Aziraphale’s attention.  
“Oh good lord, these are beautiful,” he breathes and runs his fingertips over the shiny angelic marks on Crowley’s hands.  
“I have never seen anything like these.” He looks up now and for the first time really pays attention to some other significant change.  
“Oh, Crowley, your eyes!”  
“What’s wrong with my eyes?” Crowley frowns.  
“Nothing is wrong. But they have changed. They are beautiful,” whispers Aziraphale. Crowley blinks. Now that Aziraphale has mentioned his eyes have changed… His eyesight seems to be different from before, but he can’t put a finger on what’s different. Aziraphale smiles at him.  
“They are truly magnificent. And your hair…” Aziraphale reaches up to touch the long red tresses. They feel like silk to his touch.  
“Wait until we’re home. You’ll see then. You want to go home, right?” he asks then.  
“Absolutely,” Crowley nods.  
“Let’s get you home, then. I’ll run you a nice bath, and then you can rest and recover.”

This is the moment Cara is torn out of the confused state she has been in for the whole time since Crowley’s change.  
“Whow, folks, wait a second. What - the - Hell - has just happened here?”  
She looks back and forth between the blond man and his red haired companion, whose whole appearance has changed in the blink of an eye - during which he has been dead. Has he really been dead? And is he really a transman? And suddenly this long and stunningly beautiful red hair in those perfect curls has grown out of nowhere. And Cara is kind of jealous of this hair, weird as it may seem. Something is definitely wrong here. This is confusing… What the fuck is going on?

Aziraphale and Crowley exchange a look and a smile, before Aziraphale gets up. He slowly approaches Cara, trying not to scare her. Because she should never have been witness to such a scene.  
“I can’t thank you enough for what you have done for us. You brought our baby into the world. You helped Crowley through his labor and encouraged him so much. We will forever be grateful, Cara. But we are fine. Continue the good work you’re doing. Thank you so much.” Aziraphale puts a hand on her shoulder and smiles at her. 

“But… you can’t just go home now!” She turns towards Crowley.  
“Why not?” asks Crowley and lifts an eyebrow.  
“Why not? There is still the placenta to come. Not to mention you were… You were dead. And the baby was dead. And… this is mad! This is all impossible!”  
Aziraphale sighs. He is really sorry for her. No human should be witness to such events. He has to fix this. He looks at Crowley.  
“You tell me. Is there still a placenta to come?”  
Crowley grins. “I don’t think so. I’m as good as new, but with no effort at the moment. Will take care of that later. Shouldn’t be a problem.”  
“Good. So, Cara…” Aziraphale concentrates on her.  
“Don’t worry about anything. Least of all about us. We’re fine. You go home now, too, and go to bed. And when you wake up you will feel well rested and only remember us like a very distant dream.” 

Crowley moans. “Come on, angel. I want to go home.” He has gathered a lot of strength, and with only a groan he gets up to his feet. Amaris has quieted down already. Crowley has wrapped her up in the cloth again as best as he could and holds her close. He looks down his body. Ugh… He might be as good as new with angelic strength steadily streaming into his body. But he is still naked from the waist down, wrapped in a blanket, his legs and everything in between still covered in fluids and stickiness, the drying remains itching on his skin. Without loosing his grip on the baby, he snaps his fingers - and is more than relieved that his magical power seems to be back. Though it feels quite strange to snap downwards, not upwards, which he has done purely on instinct. No more powers from down below… But he is clean and dressed in a dark jeans in an instant, which feels unbelievably good. 

In the meantime Aziraphale has convinced Cara, that she really has no business here anymore and that she should probably just go home and have a nice cup of tea and a nap. She is already on her way out. Crowley steps next to Aziraphale.  
“Hope you gave her some good memories.”  
“Oh, she will only remember a strange, but nice dream.” Then he looks down at Crowley’s jeans clad legs.  
“You can miracle again!”  
“Yeah, seems so. But it was to be expected, now that she’s born. Let’s see if the Bentley is still intact and then go home.”  
“The Bentley? Surely you don’t want to walk all the way back to the Bentley through this chaos outside. We have a newborn with us!”  
“Let’s see how things are going outside.” 

They leave the delivery room and make their way out through the deserted corridors of the hospital until they arrive downstairs. There are still patients in A & E, waiting to be transferred to other hospitals. Sirens are still blaring, but no other explosions are to be heard. People are still frightened and hurrying along the streets. But both angels can feel it: the end of the world is averted - again. Both look around. But just like Crowley has suspected: The streets are blocked with cars. Horns are being honked and drivers are screaming bloody murder at each other. And above them the sky is clear and blue, the sun is shining and already slightly warming their faces. 

“Oh dear, look at this… Do you really think we will be able to go home by car? The streets are a mess. And I don’t think the tube is still running.”  
Crowley grins. The wind is blowing his long hair into his face - a feeling he hasn’t had for a long time.  
Aziraphale sighs and adds: “And I am certainly not wandering through London with a newborn now.”  
“Alright, alright. Let’s see what powers I have been gifted with. Hardly remember them from before. Shouldn’t be a problem anymore to miracle us back to the Bentley. Can you manage?”  
“I think so. And we’re two now,” Aziraphale immediately agrees. He just wants to go home with his brand new little family. They both lift one hand and look at each other. One nod before they simultaneously snap their fingers and they find themselves standing next to the Bentley. They grin at each other. This went smoothly and was much easier than expected… Then Crowley turns towards his Bentley.  
“Did you think I would leave you here? No way.” Crowley’s fingertips run over the bonnet of the black car, then he carefully hands Amaris over to Aziraphale.  
“Get in, angel. I’m sure we will find a way out of this.”


	15. An angel again

Still it needs some minor miracles to get the Bentley out of the stuck traffic and back to Soho, but Crowley manages and parks the Bentley in her usual spot. They both sigh in relief, when they finally enter their flat above the book shop. Little Amaris has been peaceful and quiet since they have left the delivery room, and Crowley reaches for her to take her again. Aziraphale immediately goes to the bathroom to start the water for a bath. When he returns Crowley is still standing in the hallway, eyes fixed on his baby. Aziraphale’s words pull him out of his musings.   
“I’ll take care of her. You just go and take your bath, darling.”  
“Alright.” Crowley gives Amaris a kiss, before he hands her back over to her father. “There you go, sweetie. Your papa is going to take care of you for a while.” 

After a loving kiss Crowley enters the bathroom. He quickly gets rid of his clothes before he finally turns to look at himself for the first time. He stares at his reflection in the mirror and tries to believe what he sees. His face hasn’t changed of course. And the long red hair, that is flowing in accurate curls over his shoulders, he has noticed before. Hard to miss, really, when the red strands a falling into your face. And it has always been red. But his eyes are completely changed. Crowley bends forward and lifts a hand, touches the skin beneath his right eye. 

He had gotten so used to his golden snake eyes with the slitted pupils that this sight fascinates him to no end. He has hated and loved his eyes equally. He had loved their uniqueness but hated that he couldn’t show them in public. He liked wearing his sunglasses. Made him always look cool and mysterious. Especially while wearing them after sunset. But sometimes it had been annoying. With new technology and the coloured contact lenses available everywhere for kids to have fun with, he could have gone out without his dark shades. Everybody would think he would wear contacts looking like reptilian eyes. But his eyes were real. And that was what kept him from doing it.

Now his eyes are back to the same state they had been before his fall: a warm, soft golden brown colour, his pupils perfect black circles. It’s so strange to see them, and they change his whole face! He had never thought his face could look so different with just different eyes! He bends closer to the mirror. There are in fact very tiny little golden-yellow spots left. But they only intensify the impression that his eyes are in fact golden brown. Crowley can’t help but smile. It will take him some time to get used to this old new version of himself… 

Speaking of… He lets his hands run down his body. His belly is as flat as it had been before. Wonderful. He will easily fit into his old clothes. He looks down to his crotch. Just like he said before: there is no effort showing. Crowley considers for a moment and then decides to go back to his male equipment for now. Sex while being female had been a lovely experience, but he has also missed certain aspects of their sex life with both of them being male. A wry smile plays around his lips when he thinks about the next time he will be intimate with Aziraphale again. He will certainly enjoy it. It takes only a thought to make the effort. 

When he turns and looks at the bathtub it’s already more than half filled. And he longs to take his bath after all this excitement. Just when he throws one of his bath bombs into the water there is a knock on the door.  
“May I, dearest?” Aziraphale opens the door a crack and peers inside, the tiny bundle of their baby in his arms. Crowley’s face brightens immediately.  
“Absolutely! I was just about to get in the tub, but you two can keep me company.”  
With a smile Aziraphale enters the bathroom and comes close to Crowley. Crowley bends over the newborn baby. 

“You look nice, Amaris,” he breathes and gives her a gentle kiss. The baby doesn’t even stir in her sleep. Aziraphale has cleaned her and dressed her in a nappy and a white onesie with a little yellow duckling on it.  
“I’m surprised you know how to dress a baby.”  
“I am an angel, not a moron,” smiles Aziraphale, “I know what babies wear and how to dress one. Oh, and look at this.” Aziraphale gently opens Amaris’s little fist. 

“Oh…” Crowley breathes. He runs his fingertip over the angelic mark on Amaris’s palm: a splatter of gold a little like a star is adorning the rosy skin.   
“Isn’t it beautiful?”  
“It is… She is such a beautiful little gem…” Crowley kisses Amaris’s little palm and chuckles, when she reflexively closes her little hand and her tiny little fingers move over his lips.   
“The most precious,” Aziraphale agrees. They both look up, and their eyes meet. Aziraphale is again blown away by this new sight. They both feel like saying something, but neither of them finds the right words. So they just rest their foreheads together and stay like this for a moment. When Crowley stands upright again, he sighs and looks longingly at the bathtub.   
“I really need a good soak,” he admits.   
“Do you need any help?”  
“Not really, but when has that ever stopped you?”  
Aziraphale giggles. Then he snaps his fingers, and a little moveable cot appears in the corner of the bathroom. He gently puts little Amaris down. When he turns around, Crowley has turned off the water and is carefully lowering himself into the warm bath. He sighs happily and sinks deeper. The tub is big enough for his long legs, and he stretches them out with a moan. 

Aziraphale sits down on the rim of the tub. He looks a little tired, but otherwise happy. His eyes are still a little red rimmed from his crying. He has changed his clothes and is now wearing a cozy jumper and some beige corduroy trousers. He pushes up his sleeves and reaches for a flannel and the bar of Crowley’s favorite expensive soap. Crowley smiles and just gives in. A little hedonism after giving birth should be allowed. 

Aziraphale takes his time to gently wash Crowley’s body. In doing so he is able to inspect his new golden marks. His fingertips follow the constellations from Crowley’s hands up to his shoulders, where they disappear. They are already starting to lose their golden glow and will end up looking just like freckles and only reappear in certain situations. Like in Heaven or when Crowley decides to show them. Next Aziraphale reaches for is Crowley’s shampoo. Crowley smiles when he slides deeper into the water and under the surface to get his hair wet. He rubs his hands over his face, when he comes back up.   
“Ah… feels good…” he admits. Aziraphale has already poured some of the shampoo into his hands and now begins to very carefully wash Crowley’s long red hair. 

“I haven’t seen your hair that gorgeous since the garden…” he says quietly, “Will you keep it this length?”  
“Hm… haven’t decided, yet. Let’s see how it turns out with a baby to care for.”   
Aziraphale’s fingertips apply a gentle massage to Crowley’s scalp and in doing so move over the spot where the snake sigil used to be and is now gone.   
“It will take me some time to get used to seeing you like this,” he admits.  
“What - with my hair long again? I can cut it, no problem.”  
“Not what I mean. I mean your angelic marks. Your eyes. The missing sigil. You’re not a demon anymore. Are your wings white again?”

A wide grin begins to spread over Crowley’s face. “They are. Do you want to see?”   
Aziraphale can see how happy Crowley is about this. And of course he would love to see his wings. He is sure these wings will be an amazing sight. But he can wait. They have all the time in the world.   
“I would love to. But not right now. I want you clean and comfortable and in our bed, Amaris sleeping between us. Do you think we can take her to bed with us?”  
“There is no one to object to it, right? Of course. I want her with me, too.” Crowley looks over at the little cot. Then he looks up at Aziraphale and smiles.  
“I still can’t believe it. We have a baby, angel.” 

Aziraphale bends down to kiss him. “Me neither. But I am so happy she is here. And that I’ve still got you.” Then with a slight frown he says: “I will miss you calling me angel…”  
Crowley frowns, too. “Why should I stop? I’ve been calling you angel for millennia, not going to stop now because we have a child.”  
“Not because we have a child, Crowley. - Do I even keep calling you Crowley? What was your angelic name? I never asked…”  
Crowley retreats from Aziraphale now, so the blond angel has to take his hands from his head. Crowley quickly slides down again to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. After that he sits up and takes Aziraphale’s hands, still covered in the lather from the shampoo. 

“I have been Crowley to you for all our time together. I don’t intend to change my name back. I am very happy with what I have become over the millennia. And I will keep calling you angel. You always were my angel. Even if you never knew. You will always be _my_ angel.”  
“And what was your name?”  
Crowley hesitates. But then he takes a single deep breath before answering: “Sariel.”  
“Sariel…” Aziraphale whispers, his eyes going wide. “You were an archangel!”  
Crowley winces. “Shh… That was one of the reasons I was never anything special down there in Hell. I could have build a new circle of Hell, but I would never become a duke of Hell like Hastur or Ligur. They would never let me be something special. And I was fine with what I had.” 

“That sounds like you miss Hell.”   
“I certainly don’t. You’ve been down there for the trial. Do you really think I liked it? Just because you had your fun with the holy water and asked for a rubber duck doesn’t mean Hell is a place you want to be.”  
“I certainly didn’t enjoy the experience as a whole. But I liked the bit with the duck. And the towel I made Michael miracle for me.”  
“I know. You mentioned it a few times already. The point is, Zira: Hell is an awful place. Falling was an awful experience. And when you know you are among the lowest down there… There is a reason why I liked earth so much. Even with all these human idiots threatening to ruin everything.”

Aziraphale hasn’t ever heard Crowley speaking like this. He bends forward to kiss him, and Crowley melts into the kiss. He sighs, when their lips part again.  
“I feel honored that an archangel is in love with me,” Aziraphale whispers against Crowley’s lips.   
“I haven’t been an archangel in a very long time. I may have forgotten what that feels like.”  
“We’ll sort this out. But now let’s get you to bed.”  
He rinses the remaining foam from his hands, then helps Crowley out of the tub and wraps him into the biggest fluffiest towel he can find. Crowley carefully towels his hair dry, trying not to tangle it into a million knots, while Aziraphale goes to fetch him one of his black silk pyjamas. 

“I’m going to miss it… Calling you foul fiend. Or wily old serpent.”  
“I can tell you always loved making fun of me and teasing me!” snarls Crowley, but at the same time enjoys Aziraphale’s steady gentle fingers braiding his hair. They are in the bedroom now, Amaris already lying in the middle of their bed, still sleeping.   
“You can’t blame me for that. I was supposed to thwart you,” smiles Aziraphale. Crowley’s hair is still a little damp. When he opens the braid the next morning his hair will fall in amazing waves around his face… Aziraphale reaches the end of the braid and secures it with a piece of ribbon.   
“There you are. Finished.”  
“Thanks, angel.”   
Aziraphale smiles. While Crowley crawls under the duvet, Aziraphale snaps himself into a pyjama, too and then joins him in bed. Crowley is lying on his side, one hand holding one of Amaris’s tiny little fists. 

“She is so beautiful. And so perfect. How can something so small be so perfect already?”  
Aziraphale snuggles into his pillow and watches his husband and daughter. Crowley’s new eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light of the bedroom.   
“New life is always beautiful,” he smiles.   
“She hasn’t shown any hunger or thirst. Do you think she will have to eat to grow? And how fast will she grow?”  
“I haven’t the slightest idea. She is the first newborn angel ever. I am sure we’ll find out. And if she needs to eat, you can always miracle up some breasts to feed her.”

Crowley frowns at Aziraphale. “Seriously? You are the one with the curves, you can do it just as well as me.”  
“But you gave birth to her. Shouldn’t you be the one to nurse her?”  
“That’s really sexist, angel! Only because I gave birth to her doesn’t mean I have to nurse her!”  
Aziraphale laughs. “I never took you for a feminist!”  
“But I am! You should try being a woman again. When was your last time you were female?”  
“Oh, the last time was 1692 in Salem during the witch trials.”  
“See? You’re out of practice.”  
“Maybe. But in these modern times I don’t think one of us has to grow breasts to nurse her if she needs it. There are bottles and formula and all that. Let’s wait and see.”  
“You would be more than happy if she has to eat. You would teach her all the cuisines in the world, wouldn’t you?”  
“I definitely would. But eating could probably mean changing nappies, right? That’s something I could go without.”

Crowley chuckles. “In for a penny, in for a pound. You can’t expect only the good stuff.”   
“Hrm…”   
“We will see about this, too. If she is like us, she most probably doesn’t need to pee or poo.”  
“You make that sound so cute… I don’t think it is anymore when we are faced with the first dirty nappy.”   
“We have dealt with much more unpleasant things than a dirty nappy.” 

Another thought comes to mind, and Crowley asks: “What about her wings? Any hints about her wings?”  
“I think we will find out about her wings. If she is like us, she will be able to hide them if needed. I am sure for being born it’s much more comfortable not to show your wings.”  
“But she has them, right?”  
“I don’t know. But she is an angel, so I am pretty sure she has wings. I’ve never seen an angel without wings. But for the moment I am relieved we don’t have to watch over a baby who can fly.”  
“Maybe you’re right. Time will tell. As well as her gender. Do you think she will stay female or will she be able to switch efforts just like us?”  
“Who knows? I don’t care either way. The only important thing is her health and happiness. And her name easily works for a boy, too. Right?”

“Right,” Crowley agrees and then yawns like a lion.   
“You look dead tired. You should try and get some sleep.”  
“Sounds perfect. I won’t give up sleeping just because I’m an angel again. Damn, I have to get used to that…”  
“Don’t swear in front of our child. I don’t want her to adopt your habit of swearing.”  
“Sorry. I’ll try not to do it.”  
Crowley snuggles deeper into his pillow, pulling the duvet up over his shoulders. He knows Aziraphale won’t sleep. He very rarely does. Instead he will watch over his and Amaris’ sleep like the guardian he was in the first place. Crowley can rest without being afraid of anything. And so he falls asleep within minutes. 

It’s already dark again, when Crowley wakes up. Amaris is still sleeping peacefully next to him, but Aziraphale is not in bed anymore. Crowley listens if he can hear anything. It wouldn’t be unusual for Aziraphale to get up in the middle of the night to make himself some tea, go looking for another book or maybe even do some paperwork. Usually he would come back to bed in the morning so Crowley can wake up next to him. That was always important for the both of them. But now, with their newborn baby in the same bed, Aziraphale wouldn’t just get up to do something else. Crowley ponders for a moment if he should go look for him. And after just a few seconds decides: of course he should. After todays events, maybe Aziraphale is still upset. 

Crowley doesn’t want to leave Amaris alone. He gets up and puts on a dressing gown, before he very gently takes Amaris into his arms. He kisses her forehead, and she snuffles and coos in her sleep, but otherwise doesn’t fuss or even wake up. Barefoot Crowley makes his way out of the bedroom. Since he can’t find Aziraphale in the flat, he must be in the bookshop. With a sigh Crowley pads downstairs. When he opens the door to the shop, it’s pitch dark, but he already hears quiet sobs and sniffling. Aziraphale is crying. 

Crowley swallows hard, then he goes on and finds Aziraphale in his office chair in front of his bureau.   
“Angel?” he asks quietly.   
“Crowley!” Aziraphale hastily wipes the tears from his face. “Are you both alright?”  
“Yes, we’re fine. But what about you? Why are you crying?” Crowley comes closer and doesn’t hesitate to sit down at the blond angel’s feet, crosslegged, cradling Amaris to his chest.   
“I… I didn’t want to wake one of you. I’m sorry,” Aziraphale murmurs.   
“Don’t apologize. You didn’t wake us. But tell me what’s wrong.”

Aziraphale sighs. “It’s just… Crowley, I lost you today. I thought you were gone forever. It was all a little too much… I thought I would have to raise our child all on my own. What would I have told her about you? How would I be able to explain?” New tears fill Aziraphale’s eyes. Desperately he tries his best to blink them away.   
“Oh angel… I’m here. I’m alive and well, and Amaris is here with us. I understand you’re still agitated. But don’t stress yourself out. That’s what our daughter will do all too soon.” Crowley puts his hand onto Aziraphale’s knee to soothe him. 

“Look at what we’ve gone through. First the business with the antichrist and then the signs. And now we have a newborn to care for. But that’s what we were so excited for. We so longed to hold our baby in our arms. We waited for her to arrive. We have loved her for months before she was born. She’s here now. She needs us. And I need you. We’re in this together. We accomplished so much. But only if we do it together.”  
“Of course we will do it together, silly serpent. Oh… apologies… will take me some time to get used to it.”  
“Nah, it’s fine. Call me what ever you like. But please stop crying. I know it’s strange that I’m an angel again. But that will never change how I feel about you. After six millennia of loving you and now having your child in my arms, you wouldn’t think anything could change my love for you, right?”  
“I know how much you love me. I would never doubt that.” Aziraphale bends forward to cup Crowley’s cheek in his palm. Crowley pushes his face into the soft palm and then turns to kiss it. 

It’s this moment that Amaris begins to stir in Crowley’s arm. She moves her little arms and legs and stretches her body. Crowley looks down at her.   
“Hello, little one. Look who’s finally waking up. I already thought you were pretty boring, sleeping all these long hours,” he smiles, but then her little face scrunches before she begins to wail.   
“Ah, there we go. Behaving like a proper baby now.” He begins to rock her in his arms and then gracefully and without any help gets up on his feet. He begins to walk up and down. Aziraphale follows him with his eyes. He still can’t believe what they have been through in the last 24 hours. He still can’t believe that he has lost both Amaris and Crowley for a while. But now they are here, alive and well and beautiful. 

Crowley wanders along the book shelves, lean and beautiful with his new long braid and looking at their daughter with so much love on his face… Aziraphale tries to imprint this image into his memory. He always wants to remember this moment. 

Crowley stops and turns around to look at Aziraphale.   
“Maybe she is actually hungry,” he muses. “I’m going to try if she wants to eat something. Wanna join me?”  
“Yes. Of course. I already miracled everything we might need.” Aziraphale wipes his face one last time and then follows Crowley into the kitchen. Together they prepare the first bottle for Amaris. They take her back to the bedroom where they sit down together on their bed. The little angel is still crying and squirming in Crowley’s arms.   
“Do you want to feed her?” Crowley offers. Aziraphale feels tempted. But then he shakes his head.   
“I’ll do the next feeding. It should be you who feeds her for the first time.”  
Crowley arranges himself on the bed, some pillows in his back. Aziraphale hands him the bottle. He holds it to Amaris’s lips and it takes the baby only a second to take the silicone nipple between her puckered pink lips and give an experimental suck. 

Never before have Crowley and Aziraphale thought they would be enraptured by the sight of a baby drinking a bottle of formula. But here they are and can’t tear their eyes off her. Amaris drinks a litte more than half the bottle before she seems to be sated. Aziraphale puts the bottle on the bedside table while Crowley lifts the baby up to burp her. He holds her for a while longer until she has fallen asleep again. He could hold her the whole night. Maybe he will for this first night. How is he supposed to let go of his beautiful daughter? What will she say once she is old enough to know the story of her birth? 

Crowley settles deeper into his pillows and places the already sleeping baby on his chest. Her little fists hold onto his pyjama top, and he smiles.   
“Look at her… I hope she doesn’t grow up too fast. I want to enjoy every second of this…”  
“We both will,” Aziraphale says and lays down next to him. “Do you think she’s fine with the formula?”  
“Seems so. I honestly don’t want to grow breasts as long as she’s fine with formula.”  
“So you plan to stay male for the foreseeable future. I’ve seen your new effort,” Aziraphale states.   
“I think so. And if I wish to change back to female, I will take precautions. We shouldn’t test our luck. We were very lucky that everything with Amaris turned out so well. I’m not sure if we will be that lucky for a second time.” He caresses her tiny fist with his forefinger.  
“Unless…” Aziraphale clears his throat and blushes. Crowley lifts a questioning eyebrow.   
“Unless - what?”  
“Well, unless we want… a sibling for Amaris. Must be terribly boring to grow up an angel when you don’t have any siblings who are as special as you.”  
Crowley’s eyes open wide, and he would sit up weren’t it for Amaris sleeping on his chest.

“Just a fucking moment, angel! I gave birth to our child only a few hours ago, and you already talk about a second one? Can’t I please recover from this experience and can’t we at least discuss this?”  
“Oh, well, I thought… You seemed perfectly happy throughout these nine months and… what I want to suggest is, that it doesn’t have be you to have a second child.”  
Crowley blinks. “Oh…” 

Aziraphale blushes even more. He has in fact thought about this a lot. He had often been more than a little envious of Crowley who has gone through an experience so unique and special. The changes of his body, the changes of his behaviour all told Aziraphale how much Crowley has enjoyed it - even with all the inconveniences the last trimester has caused him. He has often thought about how he wanted to experience the same things. He has imagined how amazing it must be to grow a new life - a thought he has never before entertained. 

Crowley makes one of his strange sounds that can mean all and nothing. Because there is already an image coming to his mind that makes his heart beat a little faster. Aziraphale would be a real sight with a baby bump. He would in fact look amazing and he would certainly enjoy being pregnant. And being allowed to eat what ever he wants. The thought is already turning Crowley on. He would take good care of his husband. Oh, and he would be so protecting and jealous… But thinking back to the pain during birth he has gone through makes him uneasy for his mate’s sake. 

“Giving birth was not very pleasant. You’ve witnessed everything. Do you really want to go through this?”  
Aziraphale nods immediately. “I know it was painful. I’m not an idiot. But it’s only a few hours, and after that we would be rewarded with another little angel. Wouldn’t that be just magnificent?”  
Crowley scratches his head.   
“Yeah, but… Amaris is just a few hours old. Let’s see how things turn out with her before we decide on something that important. And maybe… maybe it doesn’t work a second time. We can’t know that. I don’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t work.”  
“If it doesn’t, then I will be happy with what we’ve already got.”   
Crowley grumbles something, then yawns.   
“Try to get some more sleep. We both don't know when Amaris will wake up again.”  
“Right. Read something to me?” Crowley asks with a smile. Aziraphale smiles back.   
“If you like… It’s never too early to introduce a child to the joys of literature.” He chooses a book from the stack on his bedside table. Crowley catches a glimpse of the cover. Herman Melville’s Moby Dick. Well, no matter what Aziraphale might read to him, it always helps Crowley fall asleep within minutes. He happily closes his eyes, and Aziraphale begins to read.


	16. Two meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two small chapters left! I thought about making them one, but decided to make the rest an epilogue. This will come tomorrow. I don't want to keep you guys waiting more than necessary.

As it turns out Amaris likes to have a bottle or two throughout the day. And it turns out, too, that her little body is not completely capable of absorbing everything she eats. So nappy changes are a thing, but only occur two or three times a day, too. Both angels are very quickly very fine-tuned to Amaris’s crying and both can tell immediately what causes her discomfort. And they are both happy to solve every problem as quickly as possible. They take turns in feeding and changing her and easily fall into a routine that makes them both giddy with a happiness they had never expected to find. 

His new powers still feel strange for Crowley to use. What also makes him almost uneasy is the amount of his powers. Everything happens far more easily than before. Must be because he is an archangel and therefore has an enormous potential. He tries not to show too much of his restored powers to Aziraphale. He doesn’t want to show off or embarrass his mate. Now and then he is curious how powerful he really is. 

One day four weeks after Amaris’s birth he decides to use his new powers for something he has been thinking about for some days now. He dresses to his finest, prepares the baby bag, puts Amaris into her baby sling and leaves the flat to go searching for someone special. His angelic power helps him, and it doesn’t take him long until he succeeds. He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair. He has cropped it short again and wears it in a very modern undercut - much easier when caring for a newborn. So Lucy will definitely recognize him.

It's still strange to leave the house without his sunglasses. There is no need anymore after his eyes have changed so drastically. The first few times had been almost frightening. He has gotten very used to his glasses over the last centuries. Even in hell he has worn them. It had only ever been Aziraphale who was allowed to see his reptilian eyes - and his emotions. Crowley is still a little guarded when ever he goes out, but it gets better with every time he does. 

The young woman is sitting on a bench in the hidden garden of St Dunstan-in-the-East, reading a book. This garden consists of the remains of a destroyed church. Even if Crowley was still a demon, it wouldn’t have hurt to walk here, because the ground isn’t consecrated anymore.  
“Hello. What a nice surprise,” Crowley says from a few feet away not to startle Lucy. She looks up from her book and smiles when she recognizes Crowley.  
“Anthony! And your baby is born!” Lucy closes her book while Crowley comes closer.  
“May I?” he asks.  
Lucy nods and scoots over to give Crowley room to sit down. “Of course. Congratulations!”  
“Thanks. This is my daughter Amaris.” Crowley adjusts the cloth of the baby sling to reveal Amaris’s little face. She is sleeping peacefully, snuggled close to his chest.  
“Oh, she is beautiful! Such a sweet baby!” Lucy bends closer, but doesn’t touch the child.  
“I am glad everything turned out fine for you. I have been thinking about you and if you and your baby were alright.”  
“Well, you had a share in it. You helped me when nobody else did.”

Lucy makes a dismissive gesture with her hand. “I was happy to help.”  
“I know. But I can still thank you because I want to.”  
“I’m glad you and Amaris are well. That’s the most important.”  
Crowley smiles. Lucy is such a nice and humble person. He really likes her.  
“What about you? Are you alright?” he asks and leans back on the bench.  
“Oh yes. I’m gonna begin my studies at the College of Arts in Chelsea this semester. I’m so excited. I just hope everything goes well…”  
“I’m sure it will. You are very determined and stubborn, I can tell from my own experience with you,” he smiles. Lucy laughs.  
“Stubborn may be the right word, yes. You need to be if you want to change into your real gender… But what am I talking about, you went through it. Something I have yet to accomplish.”

“But you are already on hormones?”  
“Yes, and I am hoping for top surgery. I don’t want massive breasts, but a little bit more would be nice. Haven’t decided about the other part, yet. But… well, I’m only 19. I have much time.”  
“I am sure you will make the right decision.” Crowley looks down at Amaris who is beginning to move inside the baby sling.  
“Someone’s waking up…” he smiles. Lucy looks at the baby. “How old is she now?”  
“Four weeks. She was born on the day of the eclipse.” Crowley opens the baby bag he has brought and looks for the supplies he has packed. Amaris doesn’t feed as often as a human baby would. But when she gets hungry she wants to be fed immediately. 

“Oh my god, that day was pure horror! Did everything go well? I heard how many hospitals had to evacuate their patients.”  
“I had imagined it very differently, I can assure you. But at least it’s a story worth telling for the rest of her life.” Crowley busies himself with preparing a bottle for Amaris. It takes him only two minutes, but Amaris’s crying gets louder by the second. He takes her out of the sling, and once she has her bottle peace is restored. Lucy watches how Amaris is happily sucking on her bottle. 

“She is beautiful. I am not sure if I want own children,” Lucy muses. Crowley smiles at her.  
“You’re still so very young. Nothing to decide right now. Amaris wasn’t planned, but now that she’s here I can’t imagine any other life anymore…”  
“You’re very lucky… You have a partner, a child… this seems so ordinary to other people, but we have to fight for every little part in our lives.”  
Crowley doesn’t respond for the moment. This young woman impresses him. She is definitely someone special. They remain silent until Amaris has finished her bottle and is snuggled back in her baby sling against Crowley’s chest. He packs up his bag and stands.  
“I shouldn’t keep you any longer. But it was a real pleasure to meet you again, Lucy. I hope all your dreams come true. God bless you, and good luck.” Crowley extends his hand. Lucy takes it, and they look at each other. It’s not really a miracle. It’s in fact a blessing. Crowley really hopes Lucy will have a happy life. Lucy keeps his hand longer than necessary until she finally lets go.  
“Thank you. All the best for you and your family.”  
Crowley nods his thanks, then turns and walks away. He will check in on her from time to time. That’s what angels do, after all, right? And he is an angel again. 

When he arrives home and enters the book shop he freezes immediately. Aziraphale is turning towards him, a strained smile on his face.  
“There you are, my love. I just told Gabriel here that you and Amaris went for a walk.”  
Crowley looks Gabriel up and down. The archangel is his usual jovial self in a perfectly tailored suit, an expensive cashmere coat and a silk scarf. And his unpleasant and false smile is the same as ever.  
“What do you want?” he snarls and puts the baby bag down. His hands come to rest on Amaris warm body, and he unconsciously widens his stance, ready to defend himself and his child. 

“I wanted to… welcome you back among the Lord’s community. And wanted to meet your child.”  
“You have no business here. I don’t belong to your community. Your community is nothing but a bunch of cowards and idiots. I already told you that when I visited you in Heaven. I don’t need any of you, Gabriel.”  
“But you are an angel again. We have never seen something like this happen. And you’re not only an angel, you’re an archangel.”  
“So? What’s that got to do with anything?”  
Gabriel dares to come a step closer, but Crowley glares at him. “Don’t.”  
The other archangel lifts his hands. “I don’t mean any harm. But everyone in Heaven wants to know how this could have happened. An angel is born. Angels aren’t born. They were made by the almighty.”  
“Well, this angel was made by me and my husband. And so she belongs only to us. You have nothing to do with her. You may as well go.”  
“But she is an angel after all. You can’t keep her heritage from her.”  
“We won’t keep anything from her. We will discuss this when the time is right. Until then she is in the best hands. The hands of her parents.” 

Gabriel sighs dramatically. He looks at Aziraphale, then back at Crowley. “I understand you want to protect her. And she should be protected. She is special among all the Lord’s angels. I just wanted you - both - to know that we will never do anything to harm her. And if you ever feel the need to come back to Heaven, you are welcome.” Gabriels smile falters a little at these words. Both Aziraphale and Crowley can clearly see that he is only saying it because he has to. The vain bastard…  
“And the other archangels, too, would gladly have you back, Sariel.”

“Crowley,” the redhead hisses, “My name is Crowley.”  
Gabriel swallows, but doesn’t back off. “Why do you still want to wear the name of your old demon self?”  
“Because I made this name for myself. This is what I am. This is what I will be. End of story.”  
Gabriel lifts an eyebrow. “Well, it’s your decision. I just want you to think about it.”  
“What I think about at the moment is, that you should leave. Now.” Crowley goes over to Aziraphale. The principality steps next to him. He, too, is ready to fight and on alert. He was a soldier once. He hasn’t forgotten how to fight. And he will gladly do what ever it takes to guard and protect his family.  
“Crowley’s right. I don’t mean to be rude. But you said what you wanted to say, and we would very much appreciate if we could spend the rest of the day without you.”

Aziraphale and Crowley can see how the emotions are trying to rise to the surface and how Gabriel struggles to keep his friendly, calm facade. He still despises Aziraphale. But he can’t do anything but try to smile.  
“Of course. Shouldn’t take much more of your time. See you.”  
“Certainly not,” says Crowley and pulls a face. Gabriel snaps his fingers and is gone. Aziraphale lets out a shuddering breath, then pulls Crowley into a gentle hug, trying not to squish little Amaris, and then bending down to kiss her on the forehead.  
“Thank the Lord you’re back and both fine.”  
“Why didn’t you call me to tell me this bastard was here?” Crowley asks and unties the baby sling. Aziraphale takes Amaris into his arms and cradles her against his chest.  
“Glad he didn’t wake you, my darling. This despicable angel…” He turns his attention to Crowley who shrugs off his coat. “I didn’t get the opportunity. And I couldn’t very well call you and tell you: _By the way, Gabriel is here and wants to see you and our baby_.”  
“Why not? I don’t want this bastard near our child. If he shows up again, please tell me.”  
“I will. Sorry.” Aziraphale rocks Amaris in his arms. He has gotten so used to the wonderful feeling of holding his child that he can’t get enough of it. All in all Amaris is an uncomplicated baby so far, but she’s also only four weeks old. 

“Did you find this girl you wanted to talk to?” Aziraphale changes the subject. Crowley locks the shop’s door. He’s not up to customers at the moment.  
“Yes. I talked to her. And… I gave my first blessing.”  
Aziraphale looks at him and begins to smile brightly. “You did? Oh! How did it feel?”  
Crowley furrows his brows. “What do you mean _How did it feel?_ How is it supposed to feel?”  
The blond angel chuckles and goes over to Crowley to kiss him. “It’s supposed to feel right. I always feel content and warm when I give a blessing. It just feels good.”  
Crowley blushes a little. “I suppose I did it right, then.”  
“I’m sure you did. There is nothing you can do wrong with a blessing.”  
“Oh, you can bless the wrong people. Imagine that. Must have happened before.”  
“Hm, I have never heard of a blessing gone wrong. Don’t overthink it. I’m sure she deserved it. She was there to help you after all. And I am very thankful for that.”

Crowley rests his forehead against Aziraphale’s. Some strands of his hair trickle Aziraphale. “Me, too. That’s why I wanted to see her.”  
“You did the right thing.” Aziraphale kisses him again, then says: “We should put Amaris to bed. Did she enjoy the walk?”  
“I think so. It’s strange when you walk through London with a baby in a baby sling. People are looking at you.” Crowley follows Aziraphale upstairs to their flat.  
“People are always looking at you. You just ignored the fact for most of the time.”  
“That’s different.”  
“ _You_ are different.”  
“No, ‘m not. Same old silly serpent.”  
Aziraphale laughs. “You are _my_ old silly serpent. Put the kettle on, dear. Let’s have tea.”


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, like I promised: the little epilogue. Thank you for joining me on this journey! Every kudo and ever comment was very much appreciated and I am glad you liked the story.

Crowley has to admit he has never been happier before. Not even creating the stars comes close to the happiness he feels with Aziraphale and Amaris. The baby angel is a constant source or wonder for both of them. Every day with her is something they cherish. Of course some nights are short. Amaris behaves like every baby would. She has her needs and her moods. But angelic patience comes very handy in these moments. It’s an experience they are both more than happy with. 

When Amaris is three months old they both decide: yes, a sibling for her would be a good idea. And so Aziraphale changes for the first time in more than 300 years - and he goes all in. Crowley could stare at him all day, whenever they are together. Which is most of the time actually. 

Aziraphale wears his white blond hair long now, a headband keeping the beautiful cascade of shining curls out of his face and eyes. He’s curvy, of course he is, and he has taken to wear mostly skirts and dresses, perfectly tailored for him. To the customers in the bookshop he’s Raphaela Fell, Ezra Fell’s sister, taking over for him while her brother is abroad. 

As much as Crowley admires Aziraphale’s exceptional beauty throughout the day he counts himself even more lucky when in the evening Amaris is sleeping in her cot and he joins his angel in bed. He loves to bury his head between Aziraphale’s voluminous breasts and later between his plush thighs. It feels like Heaven to make love to him. To sink into the warm velvety heat of Aziraphale’s body, to make him come over and over again while assuring him how perfect and wonderful he is. They try themselves out for a while, just enjoying this new dynamic. What will happen will happen, they both don’t put any pressure on themselves. And when after only a few months another miracle happens and Aziraphale finds himself pregnant, they are both overwhelmed with joy and happiness.

A female Aziraphale is already beautiful. But Aziraphale pregnant is even more amazing. Crowley is mesmerized and even more in love than ever before. Growing a child is making Aziraphale look absolutely radiant. He enjoys every minute of it, and Crowley does, too. He indulges in taking care of his mate, spoiling him rotten when ever he can. And when Amaris is 14 months old, on a quiet and peaceful night, her sister Noemi is born. It is exactly the kind of birth Crowley had hoped to have for himself. They are alone in the flat above the shop. Aziraphale is in labour for about 18 hours, and in the end he gives birth to their second child in their bed, Crowley catching the newborn angel in his hands and everything is just perfect. 

Noemi has a shock of red hair and a golden angelic birth mark resembling a flower on her left flank. Noemi, meaning “loveliness”, is as beautiful as Amaris. Crowley and Aziraphale immediately fall in love with her. After Crowley has cut the umbilical cord, Aziraphale reaches for her. He cradles the newborn to his chest and they both cry tears of joy. 

Amaris is still too young to realize what has happened and that she now has a sister. Since both babies have been born female, they seem to have a preference for this gender. If they decide to change at one point of their life, they will have the help and support of their parents. Aziraphale is the epitome of motherhood, but chooses not to nurse Noemi. Just like they have done with Amaris they both want to care for Noemi equally. Aziraphale keeps his female appearance for another few weeks before he switches back to his male body. 

Amaris’s wings show for the first time when she is two years old, just out of the blue. Crowley had been playing with her in a part of the bookshop where Aziraphale has prepared a special spot for her with a colorful rug, some toys and picture books. Aziraphale is sitting at his bureau, preparing his taxes, Noemi on his lap. She’s fascinated with what her papa is doing with the strange machine and now and then smashes her tiny hands on the keyboard which always makes Aziraphale laugh. He also hears Amaris giggling in her kids’ corner and Crowley low rumbling voice, then both of them laughing loudly and suddenly Crowley exclaiming “Holy shit!”. 

Aziraphale jumps to his feet and hurries over to his husband and stops dead in his tracks when he rounds the book shelf. Crowley is crouching on the rug, smiling like a madman. Amaris is still laughing, and she is enthusiastically flapping her wings. The feathers are a strange mixture of baby down and first real feathers, white and light grey and still a long way from making her able to fly.  
“Amaris, sweetheart!”  
Amaris turns when she hears her papa’s voice, proudly flapping her wings and clapping her hands in the same rhythm.  
“Mara ducky!” the little angel states and Crowley nearly topples over with laughter. Aziraphale, too, can’t suppress a laugh. He puts Noemi down, and the baby sits and watches with fascination what her big sister is doing.  
“Mara ducky,” repeats Amaris proudly. That’s what happens when you take your children to feed the ducks too often, thinks Aziraphale, but his heart is filled with joy and pride. 

“Come here, little duckling! Oh, I am so proud of you…” Aziraphale opens his arms. With a happy giggle Amaris comes over to him and finds herself in a loving embrace. Aziraphale shakes his head at Crowley, who is still laughing and now wiping tears from his eyes.  
“Sorry, angel… that was too funny…” he wheezes.  
“Oh be silent. It’s not only me who takes the children to the pond.”  
“Didn’t say that. Dear Lord, we have a little duck in our family…” Crowley crawls over to his husband and firstborn.  
“Quak quak, Amaris.” He kisses her head and gets hit in the chin by one of her wings.  
“Ouch. Take care, darling. We don’t want you to hurt yourself.”  
“What happened that made her wings appear?” Aziraphale sits down an the floor now. Noemi has spotted some of her own plushies and tries to crawl over to them. She’s still very young, trying to master this new skill. So when she doesn’t succeed to reach her toy, she begins to fuss. Crowley is quick to hand her one of her plushies, and she immediately begins to chew on it. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary. We were playing with some of her toys, I told her a silly story and acted it out. Must have been very funny to her. She started laughing, and then suddenly her wings manifested. Surprised her, but she immediately tried them out.”  
“I always told you you are a good story teller.”  
Crowley blushes a little, then sits down. “‘m not. Just know a lot of stories, that’s all.”  
“You should write them down one day.”  
“Nah, who would like to read my funny old stories…”  
“I would. And Amaris and Noemi certainly would.”

Crowley scratches his head, a little embarrassed, and tries to change the subject.  
“So, now we have a real angel chick to take care of. When do you think she will have grown out of the down?” Crowley asks and takes Noemi on his lap.  
“We will see. And since I’ve known you for quite some time now, I already know how you itch to help her mold into her final plumage and preen her for hours. If she lets you. Right, duckling?”  
Aziraphale gives Amaris a kiss, then has to let her go, because she is still moving her wings and squirms out of his embrace. She begins to run around, flapping her wings and arms simultaneously. Her blond curls bounce with each step and jump she makes.  
“Erm… I don’t think she will sit still for more than three minutes,” admits Crowley, still smiling and watching his firstborn having fun with herself.  
“Unlikely.”  
They smile at each other, more than happy with their little family. 

*

It’s a quiet evening. Amaris and Noemi are finally peacefully sleeping in their shared bedroom. Aziraphale and Crowley are both tired, but not ready to go to bed, yet. They sit in companionable silence in their living room on the small sofa, both with a glass of wine. 

“I love these two to bits, but today was quite a handful.”  
“Wait until Noemi begins to manifest her wings,” smiles Crowley. Yes, caring for a little three year old angel who tries her wings for the first times is more than exciting. But he is also immensely proud of his daughter. Her wings are a lovely silvery shade now. Of course Amaris has hurt herself already, spreading her wings and trying to flap them without really beginning to leave the ground. And of course she has cried over some lost feathers. But all in all Crowley thinks she’s doing a good job. Only a few months until Noemi will manifest her wings for the first time, if she’s developing like her big sister. He can’t wait to see her wings for the first time and hopes they will somehow match her flaming red hair. Some flecks of gold or copper would look lovely on her… 

“She can wait a little longer, if you ask me. And I just hope Amaris doesn’t hurt herself more than she already has.”  
“She’s a child, and she will manage. That’s part of growing up. Don’t worry. We will keep her from bigger harm.”  
“Oh, sure. But I’m still concerned about kindergarten.”  
Amaris is supposed to start kindergarten in a few months. Aziraphale and Crowley are both concerned that Amaris could be tempted to manifest her wings when she’s with the other children. That could cause real trouble. But she needs other children her age, and she’s already excited.  
“She’s a smart child. We will remind her once she starts kindergarten.”

Crowley puts his glass down and perks up his ears for sounds from the nursery. But everything is peaceful and quiet.  
“The girls are fast asleep. I want to show you something, angel.” Crowley stands up and extends a hand to his husband. Aziraphale takes it and follows Crowley to the staircase.  
“Where are we going? The girls -” he begins, but Crowley pats the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie.  
“I’ve got the baby monitor.” He pulls Aziraphale upstairs and to the small garden he has built into the roof. Part of the terrace is open, the other half is occupied by a greenhouse with Crowley’s more delicate plants. 

Aziraphale shivers and pulls his Cardigan close over his chest. It’s early February, and his breath is a silvery cloud in front of his face. A handful of stars is sparkling in the for once clear night sky.  
“I discovered something a few weeks ago. Come,” Crowley smiles and gently pushes Aziraphale to the edge of the terrace.  
Crowley stands behind Aziraphale. He puts his left arm around him in a gentle embrace and rests his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder.  
“Watch, angel…” he breathes and lifts his right hand high above their heads and moves it from left to right - a very slowly, slightly curved motion.  
Aziraphale’s eyes widen and he takes a deep breath. Crowley feels his chest expand and then how Aziraphale puts his hands onto his left forearm.  
“Oh Crowley! Are you really doing that?”  
“Told you I was a star maker. Can’t make stars anymore, but isn’t this as beautiful?”

They both watch the green and violet flicker of the northern lights manifest in the night sky above London. It’s not as bright as it could be were they in the middle of nowhere somewhere in Norway or Greenland. But nevertheless it’s beautiful. Aziraphale is mesmerized, when he observes the colours changing and playing over the sky, following the slow movement of Crowley’s hand. His angelic marks are glittering golden freckles on his skin while he works this very special magic. When Aziraphale turns his head to look at him, Crowley seems to be the most beautiful thing in the whole universe. There is a smile on his face that shows a happiness Aziraphale has only seen twice - after the birth of their children. The sight of Crowley fascinates him more than the aurora borealis, magnificent as it may be. 

“I love you so much, Crowley, my most precious angel. Thank you for everything,” Aziraphale says, his voice thick with unshed tears. He turns and hugs Crowley tight, pressing his cheek to Crowley’s chest. Crowley chuckles, then presses a kiss into Aziraphale’s curls. He knows exactly what Aziraphale means. Not only the northern lights, but their little family.  
“You miss the show, Zira.”  
“How did you find out you can do that?”  
“Coincidence. I took Amaris up here a few weeks ago. She wanted to help with the plants in the greenhouse. It was already dark, and she saw some stars and began to ask about them. I told her and showed her the brightest stars. And while I pointed them out to her the lights began to come up. Look…”  
Snuggled to Crowley’s lithe body Aziraphale watches with a smile how Crowley paints the sky in marvelous colours. Sometimes he still can’t believe his luck. He has everything he never thought he would want. But that was back then when the world was still young. And now that he has it he can’t imagine his life any other way. And he knows Crowley feels just the same. 

While they look up at the sky, while Crowley gives something of his very core to Aziraphale and while Aziraphale just radiates love and adoration, an old couple is taking a walk in a tiny street garden in the middle of London - hand in hand, slowly and without any haste. They, too, see the distant light in the sky and stop to admire the spectacle. This is Berkeley Square. The old couple lives nearby and every evening they take a walk through the neighbourhood and visit the little garden. With a smile they watch the flickering and blooming of the northern lights. And behind them in one of the many old and majestic trees a little sparrow sings his simple song to praise life.


End file.
